Revelation
by Spin11
Summary: How deep is Sara and Ian's connection? A meeting long over due... 7-5
1. Chapter one

Title: Revelation  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoiler: Maelstorm-Season finale  
  
Summary: How deep is Sara and Ian's connection?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing dealing with Witchblade. Just some craze fanatic waiting for the 2nd season to start. (  
  
You all know how I crave reviews. So let me know what you think, okay!? Enjoy!!  
  
A/N: I've been bitten by the writers block bug and I'm slowly recovering so please bear with me.  
  
~*~  
  
Stabbing the down button with more force then needed Sara stood impatiently as she waited for the elevator car to arrive. Her grip tightens on the hold she had on her helmet, which was already secure under her arm. All she had wanted to do was get out of her dress blues and go home. Her day hadn't started out too bad, yet any day away from Dante was considered a good day. However it had gotten worst when she arrived at court to testify for two older cases. What could have been a few hours in court had dragged out to be six hours. And just when she was about ready to head home, Irons calls her on her cell phone and insisted on seeing her in his office at Vorshlag. She really did not want to deal with the man but she knew Irons wouldn't take no for an answer, which would only end up with him sending his lapdog for her.  
  
'Might as well get this over with' she thought as she rode the Buell over to Vorshlag.  
  
Still standing waiting for the damn elevator, thoughts of their conversation ran through her mind. It had been quite aberrant of Irons' to call her, wanting to apologize. Yet she knew the man always had something up his sleeves. Kenneth Irons never does any thing that wouldn't benefit him in some form or another.  
  
"What the hell do you want this time, Irons? I'm having a bad day and I really don't need this shit from you."  
  
Sara stood in the middle of his lavish yet sparsely furnished office at Vorshlag Industries. When she entered she was surprise Nottingham hadn't been lurking around in a corner somewhere. Apparently he had been keeping his distance lately. Since that day on the field with him kicking the crap out of Jake, and the night before when he came to her saying that he was turning himself in. However, he never made a confession. Well that wasn't entirely true; he did make one, a profession. 'I love you, in unguarded moments.' She had been so stunned from his strange behavior she didn't know how to respond. Instead she tried to get him to confess his involvement in the Parsegien/Wolfe homicide. It had proven to be a waste of time and the Witchblade hadn't given a hand in helping her solve the case. She had been assailed with images of Nottingham and voices she couldn't quite understand.  
  
"I called you here to apologize" Sara tried to push the thoughts of Nottingham aside as Irons spoke over his shoulder.  
  
He had been standing at the only open window of his office when Sara arrived, staring out into the already setting sun, behind it the dark sky was turning an ugly gray, a rainstorm no doubt. He finally turned to Sara tearing his gaze from the view. Inadvertently Sara notices the cane he uses to carefully make his way towards her. She had to stifle a gasp; the Kenneth Irons that stood in front of her now wasn't the same man she met months ago. His once vibrant, youthful image had been replaced by something old and well beyond his years.  
  
"Behold the future, Sara" Irons watch as Sara tried to regain her composure, shaking her head and blinking back the confusion.  
  
"Ah, you said something about apologizing. For what?"  
  
Kenneth shifted his weight and leaned heavily on his cane. Shaking his head trying to find the words he could use to capture Sara's sympathy. Here was a woman who held his future, his life in the palm of her hands. Since passing the Periculum her entire body had undergone a dramatic change. The same blood that courses through her body could very well save his life. And yet she had no idea the importance of her existence.  
  
"When I first met you my only interest was in the Witchblade. I offered you the world on a silver platter. But that was not altruistic and genuine. You rejected me and you had the right to do so."  
  
"Apology not required but accepted." Sara stared disbelievingly at Irons.  
  
"And yet when you came to me for help I refused out of…bitterness."  
  
"But you came through in the end, two million dollars worth." Though he had rejected her earlier that day Sara recalled Nottingham arriving at the warehouse with the leather satchel no doubt full of the money Irons provided. Even she had been touched and shocked by Irons actions. But that didn't mean she trusted him. However things didn't go as planned, she still lost John to death by the hands of that Fiona woman.  
  
Kenneth shook his head. It was never his intention to pay the ransom. He sent Ian empty handed with only the order to retrieve the Witchblade from the pretender. Leaving Sara and her lover to fend for themselves. To his disappointment Ian had returned without the blade and Sara was still alive. The only satisfaction he had was the fact that Conchobar was no longer a part of Sara's life. However, he knew the bard's life would have come to a rather painful end sooner or later. Like he told Sara 'history tended to repeat itself.'  
  
It was foretold in the tome that held Cathain's legend. Though the reasons why Conchobar died had been on those missing pages, Irons' wasn't about to inform Sara or Ian for that matter. Let her think what she wishes of her innocent Conchobar and Ian had no way of knowing the role he played. It was sheer luck those pages where missing; Irons had retained some control over the situation.  
  
"That was Ian's doing…"  
  
Sara's eyes widen as she stared incredulous at Irons. She couldn't believe it. It wasn't Irons that came through for her in the end. It was Nottingham? She wanted to question why but the words were stuck in her throat. She tried her best to focus her attention to Irons continued ramblings but she still could not apprehend the news about Nottingham. He provided the money? Two million dollars was not pocket change, just where did he get a hold of that kind of money? Most importantly why did he do it?  
  
'Relax Sara, I would do anything to please you' the image of him flashed once more in her mind.  
  
"…He shammed me into realizing I was consigning you to death by refusing to help you. So I express my heartfelt regrets. I ask for your forgiveness." Blinking back the confusion, Sara nodded her acceptance.  
  
She was still dumbfounded by the revelation of Nottingham providing the two million dollars. What else had he done for her? Besides the fact he had saved her ass more then once on occasion. She felt the Witchblade warm up on her arm. She pushed the urge to look down at the blade. If it was going to thrust her into another vision she wanted to make sure she was alone and as far away from Irons as possible.  
  
"Should you need anything from me in the future, anything I am in your service"  
  
"Where is Nottingham now?" Sara had suddenly grown curious about him.  
  
"Why Sara?" Irons hid the irritation in his voice. He knew about Ian's growing infatuation for Sara, but the thought that she may feel something in return, no matter how minute, had bothered him greatly.  
  
"I have a few more questions I wanted to ask him."  
  
She wanted to know exactly what happened the night of the Irish massacre. Sara was sure he was the only one coherent enough to remember since the others were…dead. Everything about that night had been a blur. All she could remember was John dying in her arms and then Jake waking her up, helping her out of the warehouse before the police got there. She was still unsure how the blade got back on her arm. But these were questions she needed to ask Nottingham not Irons. She had no doubt Nottingham had told Irons everything; he was still Irons' servant, wasn't he? Sara tried to get some reassurance by discreetly rubbing the blade and in return she felt it warm up once again on her arm. 'You definitely have something to tell me, don't you?' Sara thought sarcastically.  
  
"Why detective, is Ian another one of your suspects again?" Sara hated that smirk and just wanted to knock it off his face with the Witchblade.  
  
"Well Mr. Irons that's between Nottingham and myself." Irons' grip had tightened on the handle of the cane as he eyed Sara shrewdly. He was sure there was something more to Sara's inquiry about Ian. Irons could not afford to speculate on what they would be discussing. He needed to know and Sara was adamant on not telling him. A plan had started to formulate in his mind, to put forward his plans he needed to act on it immediately.  
  
"I will relay your message to Ian that you wish to speak to him, Sara. Now if you will excuse me I can only eat so much crow at one sitting." Irons ended the conversation with a pert nod.  
  
Without another word Irons turned his back on Sara and headed back towards to the open window. Not needing any other encouragement, Sara took her leave.  
  
Sara's patience was weaning thin. Just before she left Irons' office she heard the distance sound of a thunderstorm brewing outside. Now she would have to ride her Buell in the rain if she didn't hurry and leave. Sara stared at the closed metal doors, frustrated she jabbed the down button once more. 'Should have used the stairs instead' She thought. She had taken a step when suddenly the light indicator above flashed and the metal doors hissed opened. Quickly turning she got in. Sara was grateful the car was empty; she really did not need the company on the long flight down.  
  
She pressed the first floor button and just when the doors were about to close the dark enigma gracefully squeezed in. Without a second thought Sara pushed at a button that hesitantly left the doors open. With a finger still on the button she stuck her head out of the elevator hoping to catch someone who was going down. She may not have wanted the company earlier, but now was the time she hoped someone was coming. To her disappointment there was no one else but the assassin and the cop. Sara turned her head to glance at Nottingham who found a corner and stood at parade rest with his head bowed.  
  
Shaking her head she let out a loud sigh, and removed her finger from the switch. 'This is going to be a long trip down' Sara thought to herself. She had wanted to talk to Nottingham but now wasn't the time. All she had wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed and try to forget the rest of the day. They had passed eight floors in an uncomfortable silence. Nottingham refused to look up from his bowed head and Sara obviously did not want to talk.  
  
With his head bowed, Nottingham looked up from beneath his lashes, noticing Sara's raising agitation. She stood near the control panel with her back towards the wall of the elevator, arms crossed at her chest, her helmet dangling from her right hand. The Witchblade glowing a light red, yes she was agitated. Apparently she wasn't trusting to turn her back to him and she kept her gazed locked on him. It had hurt to think he was the cause of her uneasiness. When all he had wanted, since the moment she was discovered to be the true wielder, was to serve her to the best of his ability. But they had started on a bad note and everything from then on had just gotten worst. She neither liked nor trusted him and being associated with Kenneth Irons only added to the hatred she already had towards him. As much as Ian wanted for her to trust him he knew the opportunity had been lost. 


	2. Chapter two

Ian had refused her when she asked for his help. In the end his refusal had cost the lost of her partner, Det. Woo. But it had been essential to test her, to test the blade. Though she had pass; she would never forgive him. All that was left of their obscure relationship was disdain and animosity. She made sure he knew where he stood in her life, with every incisive comment left an everlasting mark on his already lacerated soul. Nottingham felt the weight he carried on his shoulders grow heavier and he let out a small sigh.  
  
"What the hell was that for?" Sara didn't bother to hide the hostility in her voice.  
  
"It is nothing Lady Sara"  
  
"Huh, yeah whatever and cut with the 'Lady' crap."  
  
Nottingham lowered his head. He always seemed to be her intended target, the scapegoat whenever she was in her mood. Then again she was always in that 'mood' whenever he was around. He knew she had been having a bad day. Her day wasted away at court and then Irons' sorry excuse to gain Sara's sympathy with an apology. He had hid in the shadows listening. Ian was about to leave when the conversation, though breif, had been about him. But he knew better then to have his hopes up when Sara inquired about his whereabouts. She only wanted to find him to answer a few more questions she had. Now she had the opportunity to ask but instead was ready to lash out at him. If this was what she wished to do he was not going to stop her. Ian had longed given up hope to try and understand Sara Pezzini.  
  
"If that is what you wish…Sara?"  
  
"You know what I wish for, Nottingham!? What I wish is for you and your master…"  
  
The sudden jerk of the elevator car and the emergency lights turning on had cut Sara in mid-sentence. Leaving them in an eerie light red glow, much like the crimson color of the Witchblade when it would swirl on her wrist. The blaring sound of the alarm went off and Ian quickly moved over to the panel, ignoring the apprehension in Sara's facial expression as he came closer to her. Lifting the metal cover, Ian grabbed the emergency phone.  
  
"Security?"  
  
"This is Nottingham, what seems to be the problem?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nottingham but there was a short in the electrical system, triggering the fire alarm and locking the elevator systems. It will be a few hours before we can operate the elevators, Sir. Other then that every thing is fine." The man on the other line held his breath waiting for an answer. Nottingham's reputation was well known through out the company and every one went beyond to stay out of his way.  
  
"Tell me the situation of elevator number three?" Ian demanded, needing to know exactly where he was. As a bodyguard Ian made mental notes off all the escape routes in the building. Other then the architects themselves, he was the only other person that knew the Vorshlag building inside and out. As with all the other buildings and homes Irons owned. Kenneth Irons is indeed a man with many enemies. He knew there were trap doors along the elevator chutes they could use to head back down to the first floor or even up to the roof through a hidden access. Security was the only thing Ian had control over.  
  
"Yes, Sir. The elevator car seems to be stuck between floors eleven and twelve. We will get you out as soon as possible, Sir."  
  
If Ian didn't know any better there is a trap door that leads back out onto the eleventh floor. With the phone still cradled in his hand he turned to find Sara sitting in a corner of the elevator staring up at him. She raised an eyebrow, giving him the look that she was pissed off. A compeling urge came over Ian. Since they were going to be stuck together for a while he might as well get as much information about Sara Pezzini and what made her tick while he still could and maybe he just might be indulged to help her along with the Witchblade. Because he knew after today he would never have this chance again; Irons would see to that. He returned his attention back to the phone.  
  
"Work quickly is that understood? And turn that damn alarm off." Ian insisted strongly over the phone.  
  
"Yee…yesss, Sir." But all he heard was the click of the phone. With a sigh of relief the security guard started to wipe away the beads of sweat that stared forming on his forehead. Thankful that he wasn't alone in the elevator with Nottingham.  
  
"So what the hell is going on, Nottingham?" Sara questioned.  
  
"It appears that we are stuck here for a while, Sara." Ian returned to his submissive posture.  
  
"No shit Sherlock!"  
  
Sara had already been frustrated but this little incident just pushed her over the edge. It was enough she had been having a bad day, but to be stuck in an elevator with him for god knows how long was worse. Sara hated not having some slight control over the situation. 'Well at lease your not alone, Pez' she thought to herself. But looking up at her company it wouldn't have been any different.  
  
"There had been an electrical failure and the elevator systems have locked. To what I have been informed it will be a few hours before we are able to move." Ian knew she didn't care for the formalities but it was something they could discuss instead of her lashing out at him. At least for the time being which was short lived.  
  
"Well can't you get us out of here? Can't you climb out of the car and start crawling around or something? You obviously have a knack for lurking around and shit."  
  
"The cables are more then six inches thick and covered in grease. I am not spiderman, Sara."  
  
Ian had been stunned by his own witty retort. He considered himself a patient man; its what made him such a dangerous assassin. But he could only take so much from Sara Pezzini. Maybe he should just tell her about the escape route? –Or may be not. Being trapped with Sara could turn out quite interesting. 


	3. Chapter three

Sara raised an eyebrow at Nottingham's smart-ass remark. This was definitely the first; remembering how cocky he was the first time they had meet. She had to admit she missed that about him. He had changed since then, he had been more subservient since and she hated that. Sara wasn't about to let him get the last word.  
  
"Yeah…well you could have fooled me, Nottingham. With all that Black Dragon crap, who knows what you're capable of?" Ian's jaw clenched. She still didn't see him as a man, albeit not a normal man, but a man none the less.  
  
"I am capable of a lot of things, Sa-ra." Ian looked down at her, for a fleeting moment locking his gaze with hers; it was soon broken when he lowered his head once again.  
  
She had seen beneath his beard his jaw clenched. Sara had been ready for a verbal fight with Nottingham, she needed a way to release all her pent up frustration but Nottingham's statement left her speechless. The implication of his words ran through her mind. 'Capable of a lot of things..' Was the guy serious? His stoic face held no indication on how she should take the comment but his eyes held nothing more then heated…desire? The sarcastic remark she had was gone the moment she seen his eyes, instead cleared her throat and stared at the floor.  
  
Ian smirked at the blush on Sara's face. She was beautiful she when she was caught off guard. These were the unguarded moments he loved about her. His smile soon faded remembering what she called him that day. Sara could never understand or realize how much her cruel words hurt him more then any one of Irons' punishments. If he knew the outcome of that day he would never have gone to her. Ian had hoped that after helping her at the Irish massacre she would be able to see him as a person she could trust. Yet she still refused to listen to the blade and had rejected him, labeling him as a 'freak'.  
  
Despite the fact he never liked Conchobar, he still respected their relationship. He mourned for his lady's lost. It was the honorable thing to do, unlike her betraying partner. It was obvious Jake had feelings that ran deeper then just partners but Ian knew she didn't feel the same way. However, he may have been proven wrong when she came to his aid. Willing to use the blade against him to save her 'partner'.  
  
May be there was more then just their platonic relationship. May be it was already too late for him. And if so, was it worth continuing this lifetime knowing that? It nearly killed him when she was with Conchobar. It was upsetting to think she chose McCarty over him. Then again Ian couldn't blame her, he never given them a chance. He may have memories from past lives, but this was all new to him, he didn't know how to approach Sara with these new feelings.  
  
Sara watched him stand in his corner obviously deep in thought. This had been the first time she really took the time to look at him; then again this had been the only time he seemed he wasn't on guard and seemed a little more relaxed then usual. Had this been what he meant about 'unguarded moments'? Unguarded or not Sara saw something in him she never seen before. Or may be that 'something' had always been there but she just never bothered to look. It felt strangely familiar. Shaking her head, Sara pushed the thought aside.  
  
The silence and the tension were growing thick, it had been over an hour since the elevator stopped and it was slowly getting hot. Sara had taken off her coat, tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress shirt. She chide at herself for not changing before coming to see Irons. But she had been so intent on wanting to go home and getting things over with, she didn't want to chance a trip back to the station just to be confronted by Dante. Sara sat back down in her corner, while rolling up her sleeves she eyed Nottingham. He had been on the phone talking to someone figuring out why it was taking so long.  
  
"So what's the deal hot shot?"  
  
She exclaimed when he hung up the phone. She untied her hair, pulling it up once more in a loose bun, hoping the one band she had would hold it in place for the time being. Then feebly fanning herself with her hands.  
  
"It will be another hour or so."  
  
He shifted his weight from one leg to another, trying to push away the uncomfortable feeling from the rising heat. With the added weight of his overcoat and the layers of his long sleeves shirts, it was becoming a challenge not to strip down to his tank top in front of Sara. It was for her comfort rather than his. She was already seething with anger; it was useless to give her more ammo to use against him. Who knew what she would say if he made an unexpected act as to stripping. Or maybe it was more of a self-conscience feeling he had it when it came to his own body, thanks to the punishing hands of Kenneth Irons.  
  
Sara stood up and began pacing the already small area of the elevator. She reminded Ian of a caged animal, a lioness, and ready to pounce at the slightest impression that deemed treating or annoying. Since Ian was the only other person in the elevator car she would use him as her prey.  
  
"I can't believe this! First I have a lousy day in court, your master summons me like I'm you, wanting to apologize and now I'm going to be stuck here for another hour or so with you!" He could understand why she hated him so much, but what significantly bothered him were the fact she loathed him even more then Kenneth Irons. Even Irons had some respite from her vicious onslaught at times. Ian continued to eye her from his bowed head.  
  
"Sara would you please stop yelling?" Ian calmly asked.  
  
"No I will not stop yelling, Nottingham! What the hell am I suppose to do for another 'hour or so' in this damn inferno?"  
  
The rising temperature and unrelenting bickering from Sara slowly took its toll on Ian's already waning patience. With a defeated sigh, Ian gave into his own needs. If he was going to be Sara's punching bag, he might as well be comfortable too. Without a second thought, Ian slowly discarded the layers of clothes. 


	4. Chapter four

Ian first slipped off his ring, then his leather gloves. Feeling the slight cool air brush against his heated hands. He dropped the gloves on the floor along with the ring on top. Sara continued to pace the elevator, muttering under her breath, not once taking notice of Ian. He then shrugged off the offending overcoat, with a sigh of relief, rolling his shoulders, grateful to get rid of the added weight.  
  
The sound of an odd thump made Sara turn around. Ian had uncharacteristically dropped the overcoat to the floor covering his gloves and ring. Sara stared wide eyed as she watched him push off his thin sweater over his head, revealing not only another layer of black silk that had clung to his sweat coated body but also his arms and hands.  
  
Ian knew Sara was watching him undress. She had stopped from her pacing after he had dropped his coat. He refused to look up, too afraid what would be reflected in those emerald eyes probably disgust and revulsion. The thought gave him a pause to continue undressing. Maybe he should stop and leave the shirt on. But the welcoming feeling of the air brushing against his heated skin was too much temptation to stop now. Ian took an unsteady breath and continued, he reached for the top buttons of his silk shirt with shaky hands, and one by one tugged at the buttons.  
  
Sara couldn't help but stare at his arms and hands. This had been the most she had seen of Nottingham and from the look of his diligent hands there was a promise of more to come. His powerful, muscular arms flexed slightly with each movement of his long, lean fingers as it gingerly unbuttoned each button. To her surprise with every loose button of his shirt Sara held her breath in anticipation. She was finally going to see more of Nottingham, who from the beginning, hid behind layers of black clothes. The only part of him she would see had been his face. But his dark beard covered even a part of his facial features.  
  
Inadvertently Sara began wondering how Ian's beard would it feel like grazed against her skin. 'Would it feel as smooth and silky as it looks?' Sara blinked back the sinful thought. 'Get your head out of the gutter, Pezzini!' She lightly admonishes herself for letting her mind drift into the unknown. Without a second thought Sara began fanning profusely with both hands. Inferno may have been an understatement. It was until the silk garment hung loosely open did she see another layer of black material. Clearing her throat Sara began to speak.  
  
"Uh…Nottingham just what the hell do you…think you're.. You're…?" Sara tried to sound abrasive but ended up sounding like a broken record. He had finally taken off the silken obstruction. Unlike the overcoat as it made a distinct rustling sound as it hit the floor, the garment freely flowed and made a slight whisper as it rested atop the rest of his clothes. With a heavy sigh of relief Ian let his body relax against the feel of air engulfing his upper body, letting the sweat cool off against his heated skin.  
  
Ian stood in his corner satisfied he had chosen to wear his tank top. It had been revealing enough for him to be comfortable in the warm elevator car but it still concealed the many scars that covered most of his back, chest, and torso. Ian spied a glance, from his bowed head, to Sara. To his surprise she stood there blatantly staring at him, lips slightly parted. The fearful thought that repulsion ran through her eyes was now replaced with something he couldn't place. He had seen that look before, from Irons. Irons had that same look he had every time he would look at Elizabeth in her glass tomb. Irons had that look even with Sara. Desire, lust, and longing. Ian's hope was short lived, the look in her eyes now was one he knew well: anger.  
  
Abash and angered by her boldness, Sara turned her back to him, arms crossed at her chest. She had been awe-struck, frozen in place when he finally took of his shirt. Leaving him in a tight tank top that clings to his body. Sweat or no sweat the material was made to hug every curve of his muscled chest and torso. Closing her eyes she could still see every detail of his upper body; his wide broad shoulders.  
  
The black material had covered the rest but she could see the curves of his hard chest, lines of rock hard abs, and his slim waist. The material of his tank top and the faint light only seemed to boost to the mystery of his chiseled features. To Sara's surprise, though the lighting was bad, she was able to see his slightly tanned skin, not the pale color of a man deprived from the sun or worst hidden behind layers of clothes that did him no justice.  
  
Opening her eyes she took a quick glance over her shoulder and stared at his submissive form, head bowed, and arms behind his back. She had always hated that, but now with him half dressed it only enhanced the sinewy muscles of his entire upper body, flexing as he strained to keep his body still. The faint red light gleaming off the sheen of sweat that covered his arms and shoulders. Working out at the gym, she was no stranger to guys who constantly work on their bodies. She admitted there were slight few that caught her attention, but Nottingham was different. Sara was reluctant to tear her gaze from this hidden Adonis. The walls began to surround her heart and her famous defense mechanism finally kicked in.  
  
She had to remind herself that man, was nothing more then a trained assassin, a killer associated and employed by an amoral bastard. She had to remind herself that she had stopped him from almost killing her partner, Jake. He had refused to help her at the Rialto, which only cost Danny's life. This was a man who stalked her everyday; refuses to help when it came to the blade. Who only brought trouble and death whenever he was around? A man who has been reported to catch bullets with his hands but was unable to save her lover, Conchobar. A man she needed to hate because she was too afraid that if she let him in he would leave her too. If he didn't leave on his own accord, then he would sooner or later be taken away by death. She did not need Ian Nottingham. 


	5. Chapter five

"Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Nottingham!?" Her harsh tone and sharp remarks only ran deeper as she continued.  
  
"If you think something is going to happen between us just because we are going to be stuck her together for another hour or so, that's were your dead wrong."  
  
Ian had widened his stance and lowered his head, adverting any chance of eye contact. Knowing fully that if she did see his eyes, though his face would remain stoic, she would no doubt see the anguish in them. He felt aghast and confounded by her sudden change in attitude. This was unlike her 'normal' abrasive assaults. He knew there was something more, hidden deep within. Yet, Ian was unable to determine what that 'something' was. He had been so deep in thought he didn't hear Sara speaking to him. She had stopped in front of him and jabbed a finger to his chest, capturing his attention.  
  
"Damn it, Nottingham! What are you deaf too? Answer me and stop standing like a damn statue!"  
  
"I would never compromise your honor, Lady Sara. I only wished a simple respite from the rising warmth. I did not realize my…actions were taken offensively. If you wish I will put my clothes back on." Sara could hear the sincerity in Ian's voice. Though without her knowledge it had taken all of his strength to remain calm. In hopes that his words and voice were enough to cloak the pain and anguish that had slowly surfaced, reflected in his eyes.  
  
Sara could not understand why the worst seem to come out of her when ever he was around but she knew that was the best and only way she could keep her distance both physically and mentally. Though she had yet to admit even emotionally. However she could not help but feel a little sorry for him. They were stuck here together, by no fault of his own; the lease she could do is be a sport and gives him his small 'respite'. At lease she was grateful that she wasn't stuck with Irons or Dante. She watches as Nottingham picks up his silk shirt, which was still drenched from his sweat, off the floor and hurriedly putting it back on. With a heavy sigh, and a guilty conscience Sara began to speak.  
  
"Nottingham look…" Ian had stopped dressing but his head remained bowed. With his arms clasp behind his back Ian listened intently. The silk shirt was left sinfully open giving Sara way too much of a distraction to continue on. Imitating Ian's bowed head, Sara averted her eyes, focusing on anything but his body. Clearing her throat Sara continues to speak.  
  
"I've been having a really screwed up day, I'm stuck in an elevator for who knows how long, it's hot and I'm sweating like crazy. I can understand you wanting to get some relief from the heat as well. I'm sure with all that added layers your worst off then I am. So if you want you can stay in your tank top and I won't bitch about it."  
  
"I suppose that would be the closest I would get to an apology from you, Sara. And so I accept your offer."  
  
Ian sneaked a glance from his bowed head. To his surprise Sara had raised an eyebrow and a faint smile could be seen on her face. With a smirk of his own he took off the offensive garment off and started to relax. Sara could see the ghost of a smile form on his lips. Watching him relax in her presence was somewhat reassuring. Knowing even for a brief moment they had both come to a crossroad were they could both be comfortable. Without having to worry about the Witchblade and Kenneth Irons.  
  
~*~  
  
Irons watched the security surveillance of the elevator car from the comforts of his office. It had been hours since he had been informed there had been an electrical malfunction locking all elevator systems. He had been ready to leave sending Ian to retrieve the car when the alarms had gone off leaving him stranded in his office, refusing to walk down the flights of stairs. He had chose to remain behind until Ian returned but that was until he had found out that his servant had been stuck in the elevator car with Sara.  
  
He watched now in silence, unfortunately something had gone wrong with the audio of the security cameras along with everything else. Leaving Irons to guess what the two had been talking about. At first he had been startled to find out that they were stuck together. He knew the Witchblade had wanted to send Sara a vision while she was here, he felt the burning sensation from the mark on his right hand but Sara had refused to acknowledge the blade at the time. And the fact she wished to speak with Ian left him more curious.  
  
But after watching the display of body languages Irons had not been too worried. Sara still held her bitterness towards Ian. That was until Ian decided to make a show of himself by stripping down to his tank top and Sara so blatantly staring. Irons felt the rising lust from Sara as she watched him undress. Irons held his breath waiting to see what was going to occur between the two, then the predictable happened. Sara had grown agitated and lashed out at Ian. Irons leaned back into his chair with a satisfied smirk on his lips, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, and fingers pressed together in front of him. His smirk soon faded when he recognize the small camaraderie that had suddenly form between the two from under his own scrutiny. With a heavy hand, Irons slammed it down onto his glass desk, shaking the contents that lay scattered.  
  
It had bothered Irons that Sara's minute infatuation with his servant had bothered him but now this little act will not be tolerated. Before the night was over Ian will pay for his insolence. Irons mind started to race, figuring out a way to punish his servant when the phone stared to ring. With his secretary gone for the evening, Irons answered the call.  
  
"Kenneth" The same satisfied smile Irons had returned when he heard the voice ring over the line.  
  
"Is everything prepared as planned, Dr. Immo?"  
  
"Yes, Kenneth. But I must express my concern about this one."  
  
"We will have this discussion later. He had proven his worth to me. All that concerns me right now is that this 'one' is ready?" Irons heard the loud sigh on the other end of the line. With a small pause from Dr. Immo, Irons finally heard what he wanted.  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Good have him ready. His presence is needed sooner then I thought." Hanging up on the doctor Irons eyed the monitor and continued to watch the two interact with each other.  
  
"Be weary Ian your retribution and darkness awaits you. But I will give one night with your 'lady' a small respite indeed." Irons spoke out to no one in particular as he observes his two most prized possessions: his servant and the Witchblade. He reached over for the phone once again.  
  
"Security"  
  
"This is Mr. Irons. Tell me the situation with the elevators."  
  
"Yes, Sir. We will have the elevators running in less then 20 minutes, Mr. Irons."  
  
With the phone still cradled in his hand, Irons looked out of the window. The rainstorm he had seen earlier was soon upon them. He was sure that Sara was unwilling to be riding that bike of hers in the rain. Giving him the chance to offer the fair Sara a ride home and reprieve from the nasty rain. Irons smile had widened, in awe of himself that with every situation he would always come out on top.  
  
"Would it be possible to leave one of the elevator cars remain locked while the rest are up and running?"  
  
The security guard eyed the phone in his hand. It was quite a strange request, but this was Kenneth Irons he was talking to. Everything about the man was strange.  
  
"Yes its possible, Sir. Just which elevator car did you have in mind and how long did you want it locked, Sir?  
  
~*~ 


	6. Chapter six

~*~  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Nottingham but it will be another hour and a half before the elevator operates. We are working as quickly as we can, Sir." But all the guard heard was the hollow sound emitted from the other end of the line.  
  
"So what's the word, Nottingham?" Sara questioned.  
  
"Another hour and a half" He calmly informed Sara.  
  
They had grown into a comfortable silence but Ian did not want to ruin it by saying anything that may upset Sara. And so he stood there at parade rest, head slightly bowed as he waited for Sara's reaction to the news. All Ian was able to hear was her mumbled curses but nothing that had been addressed to him personally. With a sigh of relief he started to relax. His head still remained lowered but he had leaned back against the wall and hands clasped in front of him.  
  
Sara had wanted to voice her frustration but looking up from her corner Sara eyed Nottingham's rigid posture. She knew it would have been useless to take her anger out on him. She had to remind herself they were both stuck here together. A deep groan escaped her throat instead of the foul curses she had wanted to say. With a hiss of its own the blade began to warm up on Sara's wrist. Finally having the opportunity to thrust its wielder into the vision it had been denied earlier that day.  
  
Flashes of events passed before Sara's eyes. Each image had been a painful reminder of the past few months. The deaths of her best friend, her partner, and then later her lover. She was unsure why the blade decided to replay these images but it did and it refused to let her go. The indistinguishable voices she heard when she had taken Nottingham's hand that night had returned to plague her mind. Sara tried desperately to pull herself from the cruel visions, but with each conscious tug from Sara the blade tightened the hold it had on her.  
  
Ian looked up from his bowed head sensing the activity of the blade. He could see the angry swirl of the dark crimson stone glowing brightly on Sara's wrist. Ian tried to concentrate what the blade could be showing Sara at that moment. But the blade tended to lock him out of the visions when it rarely concerned him. He was unsure the kind of visions the blade subjected Sara to. But he knew from the intense and extreme emotions emitting from Sara that now course through his own body the blade was not holding back. Could it be that the Witchblade was trying to show Sara their unique connection to each other? Nonetheless it was up to Sara to accept what the blade was showing her.  
  
Ian's mind reluctantly returned to the night of the Irish massacre and days past. He was unable to help his lady save her lover. Watching her sprawled against a man he knew in the end would have betrayed her like he had done lifetimes ago as it was told in the legend of Cathain. The end result had been dire, for Sara it had appeared she had lost her true love. Yet Ian could not help but mourn her loss. Because at the same time he was mourning his own.  
  
'Everything is connected and nothing is as it seems' words that had been embedded into Ian as far as he could remember.  
  
Ian had ripped the blade off the limp wrist of the Irish pretender, Fiona. At that exact moment, as he held the blade in his hand, it began to speak to him as he gazed deeply into the swirling stone.  
  
"All that had been forgotten shall been remembered. All that had been erased shall be restored. With past mistakes mended, all that should have been will be. "  
  
The voice of the blade ran through Ian's mind as he made his way over to Sara's prone form, gently replacing the blade back on her wrist. He knelt beside her out of respect and honor for her loss but something inside compelled him to do the unthinkable. He reached down and dipped his finger into the blood that had flowed from her wound. Without a second thought he licked the bitter liquid. The faint and familiar taste lingered on his tongue. Then with his ring he had cut his other finger, drawing blood, and tasting his own. He stared out in bewilderment from his discovery. Slowly he started to understand what the blade was telling him.  
  
The once suppress memories that Irons had tried so hard to control, through mind altering drugs from the Black Dragon projects to the tortures punishments he endured his entire life, had flooded Ian's mind. Leaving him in a state of confusion, fear, and acceptance. Nonetheless, it was more of a curse rather then a privilege to have the memories of past lives returned to him. Not only was it a constant reminder of his failures but also along with it the love he carried through out time. It only added to the intensity of his already existing feelings he has for Sara.  
  
Ian snapped out of his trance, returning his attention back to Sara. She was still huddled in the corner, trapped in the vision. It was obvious the Witchblade was refusing to let her go. His traitorous legs began to move towards her. He knew in his mind this was not the right thing to do. There was no doubt Irons still sat in his office, observing them through the security cameras. But in his heart Ian longed to be by his lady's side to aid her by any means possible. Yet he also knew by touching her in anyway with the blade still active could cause them both to be thrust into a vision the blade choose to show.  
  
Ian recalled the last time they had touched. Her reaction that night in the interrogation room was still painfully embedded into his mind. He had gone to her willingly; hoping that the voices he had heard would soon help her open her eyes to him. To show her he was a man to trust, a man she could love back. To show her that he was the man that has been there from the beginning and will continue to be there for her in the end and beyond. But she rejected both Ian and the blade when she tore her hand out of his, breaking the connection. Ian sat there crushed feeling his hopes slip away. If the blade was unable to show her then all chances for them to become inseparable as they once were had been broken, lost.  
  
Ian made his way towards Sara and knelt in front of her, hands on his thighs as he sat back on his heels. Watching the emotions play across her facial features. Her eyebrows furrowed together, her eyes glazed with tears, and lips slightly parted. He was still unsure of what the blade had been showing her. Then the look of loss played across her face. Her chest began to rise and fall from her labored breathing. His hands hovered just above her face, trembling from the strain of holding back but at the same time ready to give in.  
  
"Forgive me Sara," he whispered. Closing his eyes, Ian took in a shaky breath. He opened eyes, now focused, as he exhaled and finally framed Sara's face in his strong hands.  
  
~*~  
  
Irons had spent the past half hour watching the two through the security camera. Nothing interesting had happened until the familiar glow of the Witchblade caught his attention. The warm feeling coursed up his arm from the brand on his right hand. To his disappointment the blade chose to block him out of the vision, leaving him guessing what it could be showing Sara. He continued to watch, at the same time rubbing the back of his right hand.  
  
Sensing that nothing else was going to happen Irons grabbed his coat and cane. But just as he was about to leave he spied the monitor once again. Staring angrily as he watched Ian make his way towards Sara. Without a second thought Irons rushed to the elevators.  
  
Irons stood in the middle of the elevator car. Impatiently he glared at the flashing green digits the numbers changing with each passing floor. He had grown agitated as the image of Ian knelling in front of Sara, ready to touch her with his bare hands; played over in his mind. Irons grip had tighten on the handle of the cane at the thought of his servant's disobedience.  
  
The loud clank of the wooden cane as it dropped echoed, bouncing off the elevator walls. Without warning the interlocking circles that adorned the back of his right hand began to intensify in heat. With his free hand Irons grabbed the wrist of his right hand. Watching as his fingers curling from the pain. The outline of the circles was traced in blood. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead and above his upper lip.  
  
The pain and heat were becoming too severe to handle. Causing him to stubble backwards against the elevator wall. Grateful for the support since his strength was slowly waning from the excruciating pain. With each labored breath Irons could feel his body and mind gradually slip into the depths of oblivion. The sudden stop of the elevator caused Irons to loose his balance, landing him hard on the floor. With heavy lidded eyes he looked up at the flashing digit: 11th floor. The combination of his weakened state and the severe pain finally caused Irons to pass out.  
  
~*~ 


	7. Chapter seven

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. RL has been hectic and my muse refused to cooperate. This chapter is a bit shorter then my others and I do apologize for that. So please just bear with me. =)  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
The image of John's lifeless body lying on the cold concrete floor had disappeared along with everything else around her. The momentum of the vision Sara had been succumbing to had, without warning, drastically changed, leaving her in an abyss of darkness. Sorrow and pain that she endured during the visions still lingered in her heart. Yet stuck in this void she couldn't help but feel the intensity of her anguish build, grow in size. Sara felt as if she was sharing her lonely torture with someone else. But whom could it be with?  
  
Sara's eyes widen and her lips parted as she gasped from Ian's touch. The stone of the blade glowed brightly on her wrist. The instant Ian placed his bare hands on Sara's face he knew the visions the blade had been showing her had changed. Closing his eyes Ian tried to pierce the veil of the senses and focus in on Sara's visions. Unfortunately the Witchblade had a better idea. It purposely left him out, still refusing to let him in. He was unsure what the blade could be showing Sara but he needed to trust his instincts and believe in the Witchblade. He knew the blade would let him in but for the time being he was content to stay by his lady's side, helplessly watching.  
  
Sara could feel the vortex of agony pulling at her, trying to suck her in deeper into the shadows. Without hesitation her hand ran down along her arm, stopping, as her fingers grazed against the cold feel of metal and stone. Like a switch being turned on; a faint light began to flicker out in the distance. Lighting an alternate path she hadn't realized existed until now, beckoning for her to follow. With a shaky breath Sara began to move towards the light.  
  
Her heart began to beat faster and her legs felt heavy with each step closer. She couldn't understand the overwhelming fear inside as she closed in on the light. Turing around she eyed the darkness. Should she turn back? Return to something that was familiar, something thing she knew well and had trained to live with since the death of her father. Something she had to endure since the lost of Maria, Danny, and John? Deep down she had been afraid to continue on because she was unsure what held for her beyond the light. Yet at the same time she knew she couldn't stay behind. She needed to go on feeling that there was something more waiting for her. Maybe the answers she longed to find? She shut her eyes against the temptation, turned around, and continued on her path.  
  
However the anguish she felt refused to ebb the closer she got to the light. Though her legs no longer felt heavy she slowed her pace; a little afraid on what she would find at the end. Finally she came upon a door, slightly cracked open. Sara could hear faint voices coming from the room but was incapable of distinguishing what was said. Sara looked down at the dormant bracelet; indicating that there was nothing to fear. Sara hesitantly placed her palm on the door, pushing it open and walked in.  
  
From the quick assessment upon entering the large room Sara knew she was at the Midtown museum. More specifically the Joan of Arc collection hall, the very same room she had obtained the Witchblade and encountered, for the first time, Ian Nottingham.  
  
She made her way around the displays of ancient objects from the era, weapons, armories, and artworks. Before making her way to the casing that held the Witchblade Sara spied a painting that stopped her in her tracks. The woman was clad in armor; in her left hand she held a banner and in her right was the Witchblade itself in its gauntlet form. The face may have been hers but Sara knew it was the same woman from the periculum, Joan of Arc.  
  
Sara's eyes widen as she watch the picture fade away, leaving the canvas blank and dark. She leaned in closer, peering at the once empty canvas as images slowly began to form. Finally the mysterious shadow that took the place of Joan in the painting was none other than Ian Nottingham. Sara was unable to understand why the blade chose to show images of him but willing stood motionless as she watched. Sara eyes narrowed on the images recalling what she had seen that night in the interrogation room. Each imaged replayed as if the blade was starting where they had left off. Only to fast forward to all that she had seen of him so far and continued from there.  
  
Like a movie being played with no happy ending and the main character was no hero. The blade flashed remnants of Nottingham's obscure lifestyle, a collage of violence, pain, and death. There was not doubt in Sara's mind the kind of man Ian Nottingham really was. The swiftness and skills he possessed as he took out each one of Gallo's men.  
  
Blindly jumping off a building rooftop only to land gracefully like a cat as he chased after Moby. The inexplicable way he dodged and caught bullets with his bare hands before maliciously taking out his own men one by one.  
  
Lastly, his extraordinary yet intimidating fighting ability as he easily beat the crap out of her partner, Jake. Nearly killing him if she hadn't intervene. He had told her it was a 'debt of honor', but she unsure where the honor was in almost killing Jake. Sara could feel the anger rise in her again. With all these 'supernatural' abilities he was still unable to help her save Danny and John. And could not apprehend why he continues to stay with Irons. The images only proved her point about Ian Nottingham. He wasn't only a freak; he was a dangerous psychotic, a man she could not trust with her life.  
  
Ian tried to push the uncomfortable feeling of being fixed in his kneeling position over the past half hour. His limbs began to scream out in pain, his arms felt heavy, and sweat poured down his body as he strain not to move. Refusing to break contact with Sara; Ian simply shifted his weight back and forth, coaxing his body to relax. With a deep sigh Ian closed his eyes only to be assailed with horrified images of himself. He quickly opened his eyes. His chest heaved up and down from his labored breathing.  
  
'Was that what the Witchblade had been showing Sara this whole time?' He wondered.  
  
Ian returned his gaze back on Sara only to see what he had feared. Pure hatred was reflected in those fiery emerald eyes. He felt her jaw clench under his palms and he ran his thumbs over the purse of her lips. The feel of her resentment ran through his body the same time he felt his heart sink lower. 


	8. Chapter eight

He had hoped that after helping her with the Irish massacre she was willing to trust him. And after passing the Periculum willing to accept what the blade longs to tell her. Ian had been so eager to revel their connection to each other he had gone to her that night. Leaving behind any inhibitions and openly profess his love for her. Giving her the knowledge that he longed to server her. If only she would simply ask. But his eagerness had left him unprepared for Sara's instant rejection, leaving him crushed and confused. He should have realized that Sara was still unwilling to accept the kind of man he really was. To use the blade and pierce beyond the veil of illusion in which Kenneth's own deceptive hands had so cleverly painted.  
  
Ian wanted to shut his eyes against the image of disdain mirrored on Sara's beautiful face. Yet in doing so would only submit him to the onslaught of visions brought upon by the blade. Ian could not understand the reasons behind the blade's visions, all he could do was accept and continue to believe in its purpose. But his will was slowly waning as he watches the myriad of emotions reflected in her eyes and the feel of hatred still lingered in her heart. Once again Ian felt trapped, this time between Sara and the Witchblade.  
  
It was obvious to Sara that the blade refused to end its session with her. There was no reasonable explanation why the blade chose to illustrate Nottingham's obscure lifestyle. But then again she was talking about the Witchblade: a sentient, supernatural, weapon that can only be wielded by a woman. Irons once told her that only a true wielder could fully understand the mysteries surrounding the blade. Nonetheless, there was still so much more she needed to learn and understand. Even with passing the Periculum she realized the possibilities were endless. Yet that does not explain why it was continuing to show her Nottingham. It had already proven to her that the man could not be trusted with her life.  
  
"Are you sure about that, Pez." the calm and familiar voice jerked her out of her thoughts.  
  
"Danny!?" She watched him appear before her like some ghost. Which wasn't a problem since he was dead. However the confusing part wasn't about seeing her dead partner but seeing him here in her visions.  
  
"Just what the hell are you doing here, Danny?"  
  
"Gee Pez. I thought you'd be happy to see me?" Danny clutched at his chest trying in vain to sound hurtful. Sara could see the amusement in Danny's eyes and the slight lift from the corners of his mouth, trying hard not to smile.  
  
"Its always good to see you partner. But…" Sara let the sentence trail off when she eyed his unusual fashion. He wore the exact same black and yellow oriental robes the day of the Periculum. He was there her that night holding her hand, telling her that they could touch now because she was dying. Without hesitation, Sara lifted her hand to touch Danny's face. Only to have her fingers pass through him as if he didn't really exist.  
  
She was both relieved and sadden as she watches her hand pass through him. Relief to know that she wasn't dying but sad because it was a constant reminder that her partner was still dead. Sara's confused gaze locked with his. Trying to find a possible explanation behind the pools of his dark eyes. She wasn't too surprise when she didn't find any answers but she did see the humor in them.  
  
"Relax Pez your not dying" Danny found it difficult to hide the smile as he spoke.  
  
"I'll relax if you can answer a few questions for me; Wise Asian master."  
  
"All right" Sara's eyebrow lifted at his quick response. It seemed to be too easy but Sara wasn't going to waste the opportunity.  
  
"Not that I'm not happy to see you and all. But why are you here, Danny?"  
  
"Moral support" His simple statement left her confused more then his Chinese proverbs and cryptic sayings.  
  
"Moral support? For what?" Lifting her eyebrows, Sara waited for a response. Danny remained silent.  
  
"Fine. Could you at least explain to me why this crazy thing has been showing me Nottingham?"  
  
"That's not my department Pez. Like Irons told you only the true wielder knows all the secrets the blade holds. You have to figure this one out partner."  
  
"Argh!" Sara screamed out her frustration and buried her face in her hands. Danny was amused by his partner's feeble attempt to understand what was going on around her. There was no doubt in his mind that Sara Pezzini was an extraordinary police officer. Even without the Witchblade her detective skills were incredible. But it was a bit funny to watch. Danny could not understand why she was so unwilling to taking in what the blade tells her about Nottingham. It was easy enough to accept the bad parts about the man but everything else was too difficult for her to swallow. He seen the glow of the blade and instantly became serious.  
  
"Have you accepted the Witchblade, Sara?"  
  
"If you mean, have I accepted what I was destined to do? Then yes I have because I'm not afraid to, Danny." Her words a bit mumbled from the hands that covered her face. But there was no confusion with the sarcasm that laced her voice.  
  
Danny sneaked a glance at the empty canvas that had once held the portrait of Joan of Arc. He watched as the image of Sara and Nottingham in the interrogation room reappeared. 


	9. Chapter nine

'Alone at last'Hearing Nottingham's familiar voice, Sara looked up from her hands. Only to find Danny still standing next to her watching the canvas like some television set. Nottingham was no where in site.  
  
'You didn't have to kill someone to make that happen.'  
  
"Danny what the hell is going on?" Danny turned to her and placed his finger against his lips, signaling for her to be silent. He nodded his head towards the canvas wanting her to watch.  
  
'Is that what you think I did?' Nottingham sat there not once looking up at her.  
  
'I suspected you killed for less' Sara's voice echoed through out the hall.  
  
"Danny I've already seen this. I was there remember?"  
  
"Partner just humor me and watch will ya!?" Sara placed her hands on her hips and exhaled a defeated sigh as she turned to watch.  
  
'Take my hand'  
  
'Ah.no'  
  
'You want answers, take my hand' Sara sat down across from Nottingham and after a moment acquiescently gave her hand to him.  
  
Watching the exchange between the two Sara did not realize how the little act of holding hands could be so intimate. Against her own will Sara recalled the strength she felt the moment he took her hand in his. How he gently held her hand and began innocently caressing her wrist with the leather gloves still on. She could feel the warmth even through his gloves. Sara could feel the slight blush form on her face as she continued to watch. Abashed by the lack of control over her thoughts she gave herself a mental shake. Refocusing on what was yet to come.  
  
Sara seen the blade's red stone swirl and glow brightly the instant Nottingham touched her. Her eyes widen as she once again watch the visions play out in front of her. This time she was confused, leaving her to question her knowledge of who she thought was her enemy. The new images of Nottingham were unlike the ones she had been submitted to that night or of those that she had witnessed earlier.  
  
'I suspected you killed for less.' Her voiced echoed in her mind. Everything had happened so fast she was unsure of what she seen. A sniper had been positioned on a rooftop building across from her apartment. The assassin had been ready to pull the trigger when Nottingham appeared out of nowhere, swiftly taking care of the situation. He then took the rifle in his hand and looked through the scoop. She could see that he had her in the crosshairs. His finger began to caress the outside of the trigger but he had done nothing.  
  
Looking up from the scoop Nottingham eyed the unconscious assassin and returned his attention back to Sara. Now realizing just how close Sara came to death, Nottingham's only show of emotion had been a single tear drop that ran down his face. Sara swallowed the lump in her throat as she realized how close she came to death that day. She had been so distraught by Danny's death she wasn't aware what had almost transpired.  
  
The blade once again began to change scenery. In each had been a display of Nottingham watching over her and at times saving her life. From Tommy Gallo, to Moby, and then those Irish kidnappers. Sara was forced to relive the horrible night at the warehouse. Nottingham had arrived with the money, which she knew now to be his. But in the end it was all in vain. Sara wanted to shut her eyes against the image of her sprawled against John's lifeless body.  
  
"I refuse to watch this Danny" Sara turned away from the canvas and aimlessly wondered the small area. All the while avoiding any eye contact with the accursed picture. Danny watched as Sara paced back and forth in front of him. Messaging the sides of her temple with her fingers.  
  
"Sara." Danny's voice was both calm and demanding. Sara stopped from her pacing and stood with her back still facing the canvas. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.  
  
"I understand how hard and painful it is for you to relive the past. But don't you want to know how you got the Witchblade back? Why John died? Why I died? Why everything happened the way it did? Why Nottingham came to you that night?"  
  
"Don't you want answers, Sara?" Danny saw the slump of her shoulders and the sound of a heavy sigh escaping her lips.  
  
Don't you want answers?  
  
It was all she had wanted since the moment she had acquired the Witchblade. So many questions but not enough answers. Now she had the opportunity to acquire the knowledge she so long to have about the blade and everything else. So why was it so hard to simply open her eyes and turn around? Was it the fear that kept her from learning, from listening? Afraid of what she would find in those answers?  
  
'Only one way to find out' She thought. Finally, taking a deep breath Sara raised her head and opened her eyes.  
  
The moment she opened them she was left staring at Nottingham who stood, submissively, in front of the casing that held the Witchblade. Looking over her shoulder she saw Danny standing next to the picture frame. Both appeared to be patiently waiting for.her? Turning slightly Sara stood between the two men. She eyed Danny, then at Nottingham, and then once again returning her attention back to Danny.  
  
"Yeah, I want answers Danny." Her tone of voice no longer laced with sarcasm was now softer and acquiescent.  
  
She watched the past play out in front of her as she stood next to Danny. Sara had to swallow the lump in her throat as she watches herself pass out, sprawled against John. Now, Sara realized she would finally get the answers regarding to what happened that night. Sara took in a deep breath as Nottingham made his way over to Fiona, ripping the blade off of her lifeless wrist.  
  
'Do not return home without the Witchblade' Irons' voice echoed in the background. Nottingham held the blade in his hand and stared deeply into the swirling red stone.  
  
Hazel. Sara didn't understand why the color of his eyes had suddenly hit her. But she realized this was the most she had seen of Nottingham. And in that brief moment Sara could see the anguish in Nottingham's hazel eyes. The glow of the blade died down and Nottingham remained motionless for a time. Tearing his eyes away from the blade he looked over at Sara's prone form. Without hesitancy he made his way over to her.  
  
Kneeling besides the fallen lovers, Nottingham gently replaced the Witchblade on Sara's wrist. His face contorted with loss and pain as he, with much effort, gently placed her hand on John's face. Remembering how they had lain like this not too long ago. How lovers should embrace each other in the afterglow of passion. A passion he had felt emit through his own body as they consummated their need for each other.  
  
Pushing the upsetting memory aside Nottingham let his hand trail down her arm but daring not to touch her. His hand stopped suddenly above her shoulder. Seeing specks of dark liquid on her leather jacket Nottingham tugged off his leather glove. Lowering his hand he captured a small drop on his finger. He eyed the crimson fluid before taking it in his mouth and sucking on the bitter taste of Sara's blood.  
  
Quickly he sliced his finger against his ring and drew blood, once again tasting the acrid liquid. His eyes widen in shock as he let their blood linger on his tongue. Finally appreciating and accepting what the blade has done for him.  
  
Out of reverence for his lady, Nottingham knelt silently besides his lady, bowing his head for Sara's loss. Before leaving Nottingham kissed his fingers and gently placed it on her shoulder. Finally getting up he left the warehouse, leaving behind Sara and the Witchblade.  
  
Sara's head jerked back slightly and her brows furrowed after witnessing Nottingham's aberrant behavior. He had replaced the Witchblade back on her wrist. He went against Irons' orders to return home with it. Tearing her gaze from the picture she turned her head to look at Danny.  
  
"It was Nottingham?" Sara was finally able to speak over her initial shock.  
  
Danny nodded his response, not once tearing his eyes from the canvas. She stared at her dead partner, obviously there was now way she was getting any more from him at the moment. Though one of her questions was answered it only raised more. Why? Why had Nottingham return the blade to her? Why did he go against Irons' orders? And why did he taste her blood? All these questions were making her head spin. Seeing his partner's dilemma Danny spoke.  
  
"Pez if you keep watching you'll get your answers." Strangely enough Sara complied with the simple request and turned to watch.  
  
Nottingham stood in the middle of the den in Irons' mansion, holding out the leather satchel full of money. No doubt the ransom money he tried to use to save John. Irons eyed his servant before rising from his hand-carved wooden throne. Angrily snatching the bag out of Nottingham's hand and arrogantly tossing it into the large hearth.  
  
"The money is nothing" The flame quickly engulfed the bag and money, leaving nothing more then ashes.  
  
"Where is the Witchblade?" Irons walked over to Nottingham's submissive form, narrowing his eyes on his servant.  
  
"Back on Sara Pezzini. Evidently where it belongs."  
  
"You should have had it. That little Irish whore was an utter pretender." Irons made his way from the fireplace and stood facing Nottingham's habitual posture.  
  
"I agree. So evidently did the Witchblade. It was back on Lady Sara's wrist by the time I got there. Even when she was unconscious, it would not come off." Nottingham's voice remained composed as he outright lied to his master. But in hopes to protect Sara he needed to convince Irons what he said was the truth. Nottingham looked up from his bowed head, in hopes that the light from the fire and the few candles were inadequately enough to cover the truth that lay behind his eyes.  
  
Irons reaction was violent. He struck Nottingham across the face, managing to knock a few strands of hair loose. Nottingham was pleased with Irons reaction. Violence had always been a way of showing him he had failed his master. If this was his punishment then may be Irons had actually believed his little lie.  
  
"You should have cut off her hand"  
  
This time the lights were enough to show Nottingham's rising anger at the implication of endangering Sara. Sara watched the heated stare down between the two. There was so much raw anger in Nottingham's eyes Sara inadvertently took a small step back from the canvas. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder Nottingham was still standing in front to the glass casing. 


	10. Chapter ten

Turning back to the canvas Sara and Danny watched.  
  
Nottingham slowed his pace just as he rounded the corner. Just outside of the den door stood Dr. Immo. He was dressed in a white lab coat, his stethoscope hung loosely around his neck, and in his right hand he held his black medical bag. The site of Dr. Immo only established Nottingham's guess of Irons' mood. There was no use in delaying the inevitable.  
  
Before entering the den Dr. Immo stopped Nottingham. "I'm sorry, Ian. Would you like something that would lessen the pain?"  
  
Such form of medication would no doubt help lessen the pain but it would only obscure any inhibitions he may need. Especially when encountering Irons in his angry state of mind. Nottingham needed all of his senses to be keen and his mind clear. Besides he was already numb inside. Sara had taken care of that for him. 'Freak' Nottingham knew no punishments of Irons could ever compare to the pain he had endured by her. 'Freak'  
  
He would gladly embrace the physical tortures from Irons. It was something Nottingham was very familiar with. He has been trained to tolerate such high levels of pain. His tolerance had been one of many skills that made him a dangerous assassin and an even worst foe. It was the one thing he was able to control. Throughout the many years of punishments Nottingham had learned to separate his mind from his body. He would let his mind drift to her. The image of her beautiful face and the sound of her laughter that he so long to share with but knew it was impossible. She was what helped him survive all these years. The same woman who would, once again, provide him with the strength to overcome Irons' ire. Ironically it was the same woman that led him to this fate. A woman that has left him in a far worse state then he has ever been before.  
  
Yet this time the corporal pain would be a welcoming feeling for Nottingham. All from the biting marks of a whip to the solid strikes of a wooden cane. All to escape the unfamiliar feelings he still has for Sara and to have a small respite from the anguish of being a freak.  
  
Nottingham could hear a loud sigh coming from Dr. Immo as he entered the den, ignoring the doctor's offer. The ambiance of the room was rather morbid. The light from the few candles and the roaring fire from the hearth bounced off the walls of the large room, leaving it in an eerie red.  
  
But Nottingham paid no heed to the room. He soundlessly made his way to the center of the den, taking his habitual stance, and awaited Irons acknowledgement of his presence. Irons sat before the fire in his leather winged back chair. With the chair slightly turned, Nottingham was unable to see Irons' face, not that he needed to. Nottingham knew his master was angry. Everything from the doctor's presence outside, to the morbid ambiance of the room. Then to the change of clothes of Irons' customary suits to the black ensemble. Only confirmed what will happen to him. From his vantage Nottingham eyed Irons' clothes. Much like him they both were clad in black. But his master's chose of color was done as a precaution rather then a fashion statement. No use in ruining a fine designer suit over spilt blood.  
  
With his elbow on the arm of the chair, Irons cradled a goblet of brandy in his left hand. The slight movements of his wrist made the brown contents swirl around. Irons continued to move the goblet to catch a glimpse of Nottingham's reflection. He could see Nottingham standing in the center of the room, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. Nottingham had made no sound as he entered; yet Irons knew he was there. It was simply a matter of time and when Irons was fully ready to unleash his wrath upon Nottingham.  
  
"Where have you been?" Irons' voice remained poised and calm as he questioned Nottingham.  
  
"Paying my respects to Slyvester Marcus." It wasn't a lie but Nottingham knew what Irons meant. He knew where Nottingham had been that night. It was by his influence that had gotten Nottingham out of jail. 'Lack of evidence' was their excuse. But there was no doubt that Irons only knew of his whereabouts and not the reasons behind his nightly visit with Sara.  
  
Nottingham refused to tell him about his profession to Sara and later her rejection of him. It was still hard for him to bear, if Irons knew this he would simply use the information against him to twist the knife that was already in his heart. Nottingham could not bear that kind of torture. At least with the beatings he could concentrate on the pain.  
  
"Yes an unfortunate loss of such a talented young artist." Irons' held no remorse for the death of Slyvester Marcus. It was because of his talents that had gotten the young man killed. Art was indeed imitating life a bit to closely.  
  
"But that does not explain where you were last night, Ian?" Irons voice still remained calm and collected. But Nottingham could sense the undertone of Irons' statement. Finally getting up from his chair, Irons placed the glass of brandy on a near by table.  
  
With his head still bowed Nottingham could see the wooden cane Irons held in his right hand. 'So let it begin' Nottingham thought as he both mentally and physically prepared himself. 'Freak' Sara's bittersweet voice rang in his ear along with the harsh word she used.  
  
Irons began to circle his disobedient servant. All the while rubbing the gold handle of the cane with his free hand.  
  
"Tell me Ian, where were you last night, hm?"  
  
Images of that night ran through Nottingham's mind.  
  
'Relax Sara. I would do anything to please you.'  
  
'I love you, in unguarded moments'  
  
'You want answers, give me your hand'  
  
'With a promise of another tryst like this one you could keep me here forever'  
  
~*~ The images not only played out in Nottingham's mind but also one the canvas that both Sara and Danny had been watching. Sara stood stunned by Nottingham's thoughts, all of which had been about her. She could not apprehend just how much she was on his mind.  
  
~*~ 'If you want to stay close to me just ask, Sara. We can be inseparable.'  
  
'Freak'  
  
Nottingham closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. He realized then no matter how much pain he would endure by Irons or anyone else for that matter. There was nothing that would lessen what he felt then and now still.  
  
"Answer Me!" Irons slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. Much like he had that night he had returned to the mansion without the Witchblade. Nottingham remained silent, his head still bowed, and arms now laying against his sides.  
  
Using the handle of his cane Irons lifted Nottingham's face until passive hazel eyes locked with icy blue ones.  
  
"Shall I will tell you where you were?" Irons once again began to circle Nottingham. Expertly twirling the wooden cane in his hand. 


	11. Chapter eleven

A/N: Warning mild violence!  
  
  
  
Stopping just behind Irons grabbed a handful of Nottingham's hair, yanking it back. From the uncomfortable angle his head was in Nottingham was unable to see Irons' face. But he could feel the warmth of his breath brush against his ear and the smell of brandy as he spoke.  
  
"You went to see her. You went to see Sara." Irons tugged Nottingham's head back with each word. He shoved Nottingham's head forward as he let go of his hair.  
  
"It is still uncertain to me you're true purpose of your visit with the fair Sara. Yet, I can only assume." From behind, Irons, grabbed a hold of Nottingham's coat. Vigorously yanking the obstructive garment off, leaving him dressed only in his thin black sweater and cargo pants.  
  
~*~ The solid sound of the wooden cane striking Nottingham's back echoed in the empty hall of the museum. Both Sara and Danny stood stunned as they watched the onslaught of Irons' wrath unfold onto Nottingham. With each strike Nottingham held back the urge to cry out in pain, refusing to give Irons the satisfaction. Sweat began to form over his body, his eyes watered but his face remained stoic. If it weren't for the pain reflected in his eyes Sara wouldn't have known the suffering he was going through. Yet for some reason the pain she had seen in his eyes held something more. It went beyond the aspect of physical torment.  
  
The unbearable pain finally overtook Nottingham's body, dropping him on all fours. His ragged breathing could be heard; blood flowed down his face from the cuts above his brows, and nose. Drops of blood from his mouth splashed down onto the wooden floor. Irons continued to savagely beat Nottingham. No part of Nottingham's body was left unscathed by the cane. When his arms were too tired to strike down, Irons began to kick Nottingham until the sound of bones cracking and Nottingham's faint groans could be heard. ~*~  
  
"You honestly thought that even after trying to save her 'precious' Conchobar she would trust you?" Irons questioned as he towered over Nottingham. Simply taking a quick break before continuing on.  
  
Irons brought the cane down against Nottingham's back, knocking him down, sprawled against the floor. The force was so strong the bottom half of the cane broke off, sending the splinter flying across the room. Irons, being the resourceful man that he is, changed his grip. He held the broken end of the cane, leaving the heavy handle exposed. Hooking the handle of the cane under Nottingham's chin Irons forcefully pulled up until Nottingham, who swayed slightly and unsteadily, finally made it to his feet. His body gradually succumbing to weakness but his mind still remained strong and focused.  
  
"Your infatuation and devotion to Sara Pezzini is touchingly apparent." Nottingham stared at his master through half lidded eyes. Tears and blood blurred his vision but Nottingham remained silent. Irons used the handle to prop up Nottingham's chin as he moved in closer. Wanting to see the reactions play out in his servant's eyes.  
  
"What did you tell her Ian, hmm?" Nottingham retained his silence. But his mind reeled back to his profession. 'I love you in unguarded moments.'  
  
Beyond the tears and blood that covered them Irons searched Nottingham's eyes. His eyes widen from shock at what he found. Irons had been aware of Nottingham's growing infatuation for Sara. But would it have grown beyond into something more then just idle lust for a woman, since he too controlled that part of Nottingham's life. If so would he have been so forthright and profess to Sara how he felt? Irons asked Nottingham once again but in return there was silence.  
  
Irons heavily whipped the handle across Nottingham's face. Blood spewed across the room, landing on furnishings and onto the expensive Persian rug. Nottingham staggered slightly from the blow, leaving a larger gash above his left eyebrow. After effortlessly regaining his equilibrium Nottingham stood weakly in front of his master. His eyes never left Irons.  
  
"Did you tell her how you felt Ian, hmm? Did you tell her that if she so wishes the two of you would become.inseparable?" Nottingham couldn't hide the pain from Irons. The condescending question only triggered his memory.  
  
'If you want to stay close to me. Just ask, Sara. We could become inseparable.'  
  
'Freak'  
  
Irons had seen the pained look in Nottingham's eyes. He could only image the scornful remarks Sara used to address Nottingham. It must have been very good to produce such torment in Nottingham's eyes. With a smirk, Irons continued to twist the proverbial knife that was stuck in Nottingham's heart.  
  
"Did she accept your proposal, Ian?" He knew Sara would never accept Nottingham. But Irons was mildly curious. Just how hurtful was her rejection of him? He smiled when Nottingham answered.  
  
"No" Nottingham's voice was coarse and the word came out as a whisper.  
  
"Of course not! What makes you think Sara would ever want you, Ian?" Nottingham lowered his head but Irons kept it in place with the bloodstained handle. He wanted to see the reactions in Nottingham's eyes, the anguish that would be reflected in those brown eyes with each mocking word.  
  
"You're everything she hates. A trained, genetically enhanced, assassin with no emotions and no mind of his own. And if she truly found out that you are a mere 'boy trapped in a man's body' she would not only despise you she would see you as a.freak." Against his own will tears traveled down Nottingham's face, blending with the blood that covered most of his face. Irons moved closer and whispered to Nottingham.  
  
"Because that is what you are, Ian. A freak on a leash." Irons dropped the broken cane. The loud clanking sound of the cane hitting the floor echoed in the room. He bellowed for Dr. Immo. Nottingham could hear the doctor's footsteps getting closer. But before leaving Irons gave Nottingham a word of caution.  
  
"Let this be a warning Ian. For the next time I will not be so.merciful."  
  
When Nottingham could no longer sense Irons' presence in the room he dropped to his knees. His body began to tremble from the realization that what Irons said was true. Sara would never see Nottingham as a man; she would continue to see him as a freak. He finally let his body succumb to the physical pains from the malicious beating and let his mind drift into unconsciousness. His last thoughts were of course, Sara.  
  
~*~ 


	12. Chapter twelve

A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking around and reading my story. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter and don't forget to review. =)  
  
Twilightmyst-I would have sent you an email but you didn't post it. So in answer to your question, no I don't mind you reviewing each chapter.  
  
~*~  
  
Ian looked around the elevator. They were still stuck and from the information he had received from security they would be for another hour. He continued to kneel in front of Sara. He waited patiently until the blade saw it fit to release the wielder from her vision. Ian looked up to the sound of a small gasp escaping Sara's lips. Her eyes glazed as tears began to descend, leaving wet streaks down her face. Ian could tell that Sara was still in her visions. He looked down at the glowing red stone wondering what was it showing Sara this time. There was no anger reflected in her eyes or the feel of disdain that had once coursed through her body and into his. But the tears continued to roll down her face. Using the pads of his thumbs Ian began to gently wipe them away. He let his gaze roam over Sara's facial features.  
  
'Do you find her striking?'  
  
A query once asked by his master. Striking wasn't exactly the word Ian used when he encountered Sara at the Midtown museum. So many words ran through his mind. Beautiful that she is was too common of a word and Sara was not a common woman. Breathtaking maybe; yes she did have that effect on him. He hadn't realized he held his breath until the tightness of his chest was evident. Captivating most definitely was another word he would have used to describe Sara. He stood frozen when she entered the hall. She was unaware of his presence there, taking the opportunity he let his eyes travel over the woman who's will and courage radiated from her tantalizing form.  
  
Finally he managed to move his rooted legs over to her. He stood just behind her until his reflection caught her attention. The moment her fiery emerald eyes locked with his the one word that managed to justify what he felt about her escaped his lips.  
  
'Magnificent isn't it.' It was more of an admission to him rather then a question she misinterpreted towards the Witchblade.  
  
'Sorry Sir, You shouldn't be here.' It was the last and only time Sara ever showed concern for his safety. From a secured distance Ian watched the shoot out unfold before him. Within the blink of an eye the day ended with an explosion and the Witchblade on the wrist of the next wielder. That night he called Mr. Irons about Sara Pezzini.  
  
'You won't be disappointed. She is everything you said she'd be.'  
  
Ian was right Sara Pezzini was not a disappointment. She far exceeded his expectations. He knew the moment he seen her and their eyes locked this was 'the' woman. The true wielder of the Witchblade. Mr. Irons had expected someone docile and susceptible to his every whims and desires. Ready to take control over her and the blade. But she was a lioness, indeed a fearless woman to be reckoned with. Yes Sara Pezzini was not a disappointment, not in Ian's eyes.  
  
With one hand Ian lightly traced the contours of Sara's face with his fingertips. Smoothing out the worry lines on her forehead. Moving lower he smiled as he outlined the arch of her eyebrow. Remembering how the simple rise of the fine line would speak volumes. Ian let his fingers travel lower still. Wishing he could rub away the dark circles under her eyes due from restless nights and lack of sleep. He grinned as his finger outline the slope of her nose. 'How can this woman as tough as she is have such an adorable nose?' Ian thought.  
  
Another teardrop rolled down her face. Ian caught the tear between his fingers, watching as he rubbed it together as the water dissolved into his skin. He brought his finger to his lips tasting the distinctive bitter salt that was left on his finger. He hated to see his lady cry. Remembering the number of times he had seen her weep over the lost of a loved one or the pressures of life finally taking its toll. In his vigilance he had longed to hold her in his arms as she cried herself to sleep. Wishing he could just simply embrace all the pain and let it dissolved into him. He was used to it, he was no stranger to it, and he was willing to accept it. But Sara, though tough as she might seem, was still vulnerable.  
  
'Concealed vulnerability' It had been one of the many traits that attracted the Witchblade to Sara.  
  
Ian used his fingers to wipe and dry away the tears on her face. Reveling in the feel of her soft, smooth skin. His fingers grazed down the expanse of her cheek and down to her chin. Recalling the many times she would lift it in defiance to those who would dare go against her Irons in particular. There was no one who would go against him. Those that did lived a rather short life. Which brought Ian much satisfaction that there was someone brave enough to stand against the 'Iron' man.  
  
Finally he let his fingers travel over the fullness of her lips. They were still slightly parted as he used his thumb to trace over them. He craved to have the richness of her mouth against his. To have her tongue trace over his lips, taunting them open so she could delve deeper into his mouth. His desire to taste her was overwhelming. Ian did not see the intense red glow of the stone or hear it hiss on Sara's wrist.  
  
He watched Sara's reaction as he leaned in closer. To his surprise she closed her eyes and lifted her face closer to his. Head slightly tilted and lips just a mere breath apart Ian closed his eyes. The thought that he may once again be besieged by the visions he had encountered wasn't evident in his mind. All he had wanted was a chance to kiss his Lady Sara. The warmth of their breaths mingled together. He sighed as he felt the warm, tender feel of her lips against his.  
  
His shock was evident in a sharp gasp when she started to kiss him back. Being inexperience in such an intimate act he let Sara take control. Ian was in tears when Sara forced her tongue between his lips and teeth. The touch of her tongue with his was intoxicating. The hand that adorned the Witchblade lifted up to cover over Ian's left hand that still cupped her cheek. Ian was too lost in the kiss he didn't feel the tendrils of the blade wrap around his wrist. It was until the sharp ends of the tendrils dug into his wrist.  
  
Ian suddenly pulled back from Sara's kiss as he felt the biting marks of the blade pierce through his skin and into his wrist. He watched wide-eyed, as the blade tasted his blood. With the initial pain gone Ian was soon assailed with visions, memories, and emotions of past lives. Ian tried to blink back the haziness he felt. His head was pounding, his heart rate was racing, and he could feel his entire body becoming heavy.  
  
The tears in his eyes blurred his visions of Sara. Quickly remembering the kiss they shared. No, they did not share a kiss. Because Sara's mind was not aware of what had transpired. It was simply her body reacting to his and the cruelty of the blade. Sara would have never let that happen. Never.  
  
~*~ 


	13. Chapter thirteen

~*~ Sara stared appalled at the canvas. She tore her eyes away from the image of Nottingham's unconscious body sprawled on the floor, blood flowing out of wounds inflicted by Irons. Sara turned her attention to her partner who's calm yet sad reaction contradicted her stunned expression. As if he already knew first hand what was going to happen. Sara's mouth began to move wanting to say something, anything but she couldn't pass the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath, exhaled and started to speak.  
  
"How." Sara's voice trembled. "How could he do that to him Danny?"  
  
"How could he." Sara's voice trailed off. She pursed her lips together to keep them from trembling, at the same time feeling the tightness of her chest. She closed her eyes only to have the images of Nottingham's beatings replay in her mind. She could sense tears forming ready to roll down her face. When she lifted her hand to bat them away there was nothing.  
  
"Damn it, Nottingham just stood there. He stood there! Getting his ass kicked by that sadistic asshole. How could Nottingham just stand there and take that shit?!" Sara shouted as she pointed at the picture. Her anger echoed in the hall of the museum.  
  
"Come on Pez being a cop you should know."  
  
"Know what Danny?" Sara raised her eyebrow in question.  
  
"Chronic abuse, Pez." Danny stated.  
  
Sara blinked back at Danny's statement. It never accrued to her that Nottingham might actually be an abused victim. She couldn't possible imagine the kind of punishments he must have endured being with Irons. But Sara pushed back the thoughts of him being a victim. Sara recalled what she had seen of Nottingham's fighting ability. The man was a trained assassin, genetically enhanced. The man could catch bullets with his bare hands for crying out loud. How can a guy like that be a victim?  
  
Danny could tell from the way Sara moved there was a war raging on in her mind. Contemplating over what he had said about Nottingham being abused and what she had seen as well. Convincing Sara that Nottingham was a man she could trust was going to take a lot more then just visions from the blade. And that something more my just involve someone's death. Danny hoped that his partner would get the hint before it went too far and too late.  
  
Sara walked over to the canvas. Nottingham's prone form was still in the picture. Raising a hand towards it she let her fingertips lightly graze against the image. The instant her fingers touched the canvas it began to ripple. Distorting the image until nothing but blank darkness replaced the picture. She looked at her fingers. 'Everything I touch is destroyed' Sara thought. And if she wasn't careful she would lose the one person whom she thought was invincible, all because of her. She refused to let that happen. She turned her back against the canvas and faced her partner. Her anger rising as she narrowed her eyes. Looking past Danny's shoulder to the man who stood in front of the glass casing that held the Witchblade.  
  
She walked past Danny and stood on the opposite end of the glass casing, staring at Nottingham in his habitual stance. She let her gaze roam over his strong frame, covered in clothes that really didn't do him any justice. Remembering what she had seen of him before being thrust into this nightmarish of a vision. There was no doubt that Nottingham, in Sara's view, was physically well endowed. She still could picture the sinewy muscles of his arms and shoulders. How the sweat soaked black material of his tank top clung to him, showing off the distinctive curves of his upper body. Shaking her head Sara still could not fathom why a man like him could stay with Irons.  
  
'.Ian Nottingham might be Kenneth Irons' son.'  
  
Sara recalled the surveillance information she had recovered from the disks she took after Persigian and Wolfe were shot. A cold shiver ran down her back at the thought of Irons being Nottingham's father. How could a father do that to a son though? But the information didn't seem right. There was something more going on between those two, she just couldn't pin point it.  
  
"You know less then you think you do, Pez." Danny's voice broke through her thoughts.  
  
"Well Danny way don't you enlighten me then, huh! You seem to have all the answers O wise one." She replied sarcastically.  
  
'You would too if you'd just open your mind and heart' Danny thought but didn't voice his opinion.  
  
Sara's eyes narrowed on Danny when he didn't speak. She could tell he had something to say but he managed to keep it to himself. Pushing the thought aside Sara continued.  
  
"So what is it I don't know?"  
  
"Nottingham is a man you can trust." His statement was short and to the point. Still Danny knew Sara too long and too well. She wasn't going to accept it.  
  
"Trust, Danny?! Trust? How can I trust a guy like Nottingham?! He set us up Danny. He was responsible for your death. And you want me to trust him?"  
  
"Gallo was the one who pulled the trigger and ended my life Sara. Not Nottingham."  
  
"Nottingham didn't exactly help to prevent it either Danny. He refused to help me!"  
  
"He couldn't help you Sara. He was forbidden to interfere."  
  
"You sound like you're trying to defend him. What are you telling me you've forgiven him, Danny?!" Sara's eyebrows shot up in question.  
  
At first Danny hadn't trusted Nottingham either. In time he had forgiven him for his refusal to help because now he understood. Nottingham had been forbidden to interfere and even if he had said yes there was still no way they could have prevented his death. Like the man said.Karma. Being dead had its perks too. The powers that be had given Danny insights and knowledge. And being the 'ghost', as Sara had put it, gave him the opportunity to observe Nottingham, to watch him with Irons. From the knowledge he had gained from his ethereal state he new the man was someone Sara should trust. Now if only his partner was able to forgive and accept. 


	14. Chapter fourteen

Danny knew that Nottingham was more then just a man Sara could trust. Their connection ran deeper then Sara would have ever expected or allowed. Even Danny had been surprised when he had found out. But sharing this information now when Sara was still unwilling to accept would be useless. It would only add to her anger and another layer to the walls surrounding her heart. Which was something Danny was trying hard to avoid. Baby steps he thought as he glanced over at Nottingham. But if Sara didn't hurry up and open her eyes. She was going to loose him. The higher ups gave Danny a quick glance into a possible future and he didn't like what he had seen. The image of Nottingham's death replayed in his mind.  
  
Sara could sense that there was something more her dead partner was holding back on. She could see it in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him hoping he would be forth coming with his little information. She wasn't too surprise when he didn't speak. Sara would have been more shocked if he had actually given her a straight answer.  
  
"So Danny you're telling me you've forgiven Nottingham?" Sara stared incredulously at her dead partner. Danny's silence had already answered for him. That left Sara with just one more question.  
  
"Why Danny?" She crossed her arms and waited. She was determined to get at least one answer from him before she was pulled from the vision and he vanished.  
  
Danny's mouth began to move but there were no words coming out. He didn't know where to start. Danny tore his eyes away from Sara; he needed to think. But what could he honestly tell her? That the insights he had obtained eventually lead him to forgive Nottingham? That she wasn't the only person he had been keeping an eye on? Tell her all the terrible things he had witnessed as he watched over Nottingham? Danny shuddered at the mental images as he recalled all that the man had gone through. There was no way he could answer her question and make her understand at the same time.  
  
"This isn't about me forgiving Nottingham, Sara." Instead Danny evaded her question all together.  
  
"Oh yeah what the hell is it then, huh?" Sara furrowed her eyebrows together.  
  
"It's about seeing the big picture, Pez!" Danny's waning patient had finally snapped and Sara could hear it in his voice.  
  
Sara blinked back. Surprised to hear Danny raise his voice at her. She couldn't understand why he was getting so frustrated. This was her vision. She had the right to be upset, confused, and frustrated. She was stuck here in a vision and the blade didn't seem to want to let her go. Now she was here with her 'dead' partner who, in her opinion, had all the answers she sought. But he was sure as hell wasn't being forthcoming in the information department instead he became more and more cryptic. He was even worst then Nottingham; which was another issue she just didn't want to address at the moment. And he was snapping at her?! Sara lifted her eyebrow clearly upset at Danny's outburst; she uncrossed her arms and took a step closer to Danny. Her anger was evident in her voice.  
  
"I've seen the 'big picture' and you know what I didn't like what I saw!" Sara used her hand and pointed at the blank canvas.  
  
"You want to know what I got from the 'big picture'?" Sara didn't bother to hide the sarcasm.  
  
"I always knew that Irons was a sadistic bastard but that little movie just confirmed that the man was just pure fucking evil reincarnated." Sara paused. Taking deep breaths to lower her rising anger.  
  
"And Nottingham?" Danny added gently.  
  
Sara bowed her head. Not wanting to look Danny in the eyes, afraid that he could see the anguish reflected there. She had been so stunned at what she witnessed. Her lower lip began to quiver again. She closed her eyes and took in another deep breath. She pursed her lips together, gathering herself before answering.  
  
"And Nottingham." Sara voice trembled slightly. She cleared her throat and continued.  
  
"Nottingham is certainly not a man I can depend on." Danny knew Sara didn't truly believe what she said. Her conviction was too weak. But she was so adamant about it that it didn't matter. Danny was about to protest but Sara raised her hand to stop him. When she spoke again her anger was back.  
  
"How can I trust a man who was willing to accept a beating like that? He didn't defend himself and he sure as hell didn't fight back. So what makes you think he'll fight for me, Danny?!"  
  
'Relax, Sara. I would do anything to please you.'  
  
'If you want to stay close to me. Just ask, Sara. We could become inseparable.'  
  
'I love you. In unguarded moments.'  
  
Nottingham's voice and declaration ran over and over in Danny's mind. He turned his head to look at Nottingham still standing in front of the glass casing. 'I've done all I could do. Its up to you now.' Danny thought as he stared at him.  
  
Her gasp was barley audible but Danny turned to see Sara. She was lightly touching her parted lips, her eyes narrowed, and the confusion was seen on her face. For a brief moment everything in her life made sense and she felt safe. She couldn't grasp what had just happened. Danny knew what had transpired. He smiled at the thought of Nottingham kissing Sara. His smile quickly turned into a sad smirk. Which was gone before Sara noticed.  
  
"Sara?" Danny called to her. Sara still held her fingers to her tingling lips. 'I must be loosing my mind' she thought as she lightly bit down on her lower lip. "Sara?!" Danny's voice broke through her trance.  
  
"There is more to Nottingham then you think. You just need to open your eyes. The answers you seek are there." Danny pointed to the Witchblade. "Use it."  
  
"So this vision is for me to forgive and trust Ian? I can't do that Danny. I won't." Sara crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. More for her benefit then Danny's. The corners of Danny's mouth rose slightly, wanting to smile. 'I guess this wasn't all in vain' he thought happily. Little did Sara know the brick walls that surrounded her heart were slowly crumbling.  
  
Danny finally let his smile show on his face. "You mean Nottingham don't you?"  
  
"What are you talking about? Of course I meant Nottingham." Sara narrowed her eyes at Danny. 'Was he smiling?' Sara wondered.  
  
"Gee, I could have sworn you said Ian." The playfulness could be heard in Danny's voice.  
  
Suddenly Danny's face grew solemn. He could feel the vision coming to an end. The Witchblade was done teaching Sara, for now. Hopefully Sara would be going back to reality with a little more knowledge gained. Yet, Danny could only pray.  
  
Sara was about to protest to Danny's observation of what she said. But her ghostly partner had once again vanished. It wouldn't have mattered. She realize at that moment she actually did say Ian's name rather then addressing with her usual 'Nottingham'. It was one of many defense tactics she used to keep her distance. But it didn't mean anything, did it?  
  
~*~ 


	15. Chapter fifteen

~*~  
  
With one last squeeze from the Witchblade the metallic vines slowly unwrapped itself around Ian's wrist. He watched in astonishment as the tendrils melted back into bracelet form on Sara's wrist. Ian still felt light headed from his encounter with the Witchblade and his left arm felt like it was on fire. With much effort Ian pushed away from Sara. Crawling back to the opposite end of the elevator next to his discarded clothes. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator and rests his arms on his raised knees. Leaning his head back against the wall he closed his eyes against the pounding headache the Witchblade left him. Ian took in several deep breaths; trying to lower his racing heart beat and he tried to push the burning feeling in his left arm.  
  
It took several minutes before the pain began to abate and his heart rate returned to normal. Ian immediately opened his eyes remembering he had broken contact with Sara. To his surprise she was still left in her trance like state. Though the Witchblade had let him go it was obvious the blade had not released Sara just yet. Ian brought his left hand closer to his face. He curled his fingers and flexed his hand. The burning sensation was finally gone. Turning his hand over he noticed two faint scars on his wrist. The same spot where the Witchblade had pierced through. Ian had already been assailed with images of past lives but this time it had been more intense. Not only did he remember his love for the wielder but also what had happened in those moments they, the wielder and protector, had shared together. In those moments held the truth the of what had happened.  
  
The two memories that stood out the most in Ian's mind were of his time with Cathain and Elizabeth. And the one evil that always seemed to lurk behind the darkness. Ian finally understood why the bard's life was so easily taken by the blade. And the memory of Elizabeth was still too painful in Ian's heart. Ian ran a finger across the two small scars on his wrist. He knew the blade had once again chosen him to protect the wielder of this lifetime. But he had to convince Sara that they belonged to each other. If she truly accepted that they become inseparable then there was nothing that could stand in their way. Not even Kenneth Irons himself.  
  
Ian pushed himself to his feet and hastily put his clothes back on. If he was going to convince Sara of their connection they would need to discuss the issue alone and as far away from Irons. 'It must be done tonight.' Ian thought. There was not doubt Irons had been observing them through the security camera. Ian just didn't know how much of what happened Irons actually saw. He could only hope that Irons didn't see the kiss. He would still need to serve Irons for the time being. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' It was the only way Ian knew to keep Sara safe. And the fact that Irons still had a hold over him, something he could not understand yet, was still a problem.  
  
The thought of Irons only made Ian dress much more quickly. Ian bent to pick up his gloves off the floor. In his haste Ian did not see the ring he hand placed on the gloves roll to the ground. Finally he slipped his leather glove over his left hand, making sure the ends were pulled over to cover the two scars. Though they were quite faint and one would have to narrow their eyes to see it; Ian was not going to take any chances and especially with Kenneth Irons.  
  
Ian walked over to Sara and knelt before her one last time. He looked deeply into her glazed green eyes. He tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. He took his right hand and let his fingers lightly caress her cheek, then stopping just above her lips. He wanted so much to kiss her again but he held back. The next time he was going to kiss Sara she was going to be willing to accept his advances wholeheartedly. He let out a sigh; instead he let his lips gently press against her forehead. Once again Ian pulled himself away from her. He walked back to the control panel and picked up the phone.  
  
"Okay Mike dinner is here." One of the two security guards monitoring the surveillance videos entered the small room. He backed up into the room, using his back to keep the door open while he maneuvered a large cardboard box with 'Gino's Pizza' printed on the cover over to a table.  
  
"Hey Mike did you hear me or what? I said dinner is here." He placed the pizza on the table and turned to see the rookie guard asleep in his chair, feet planted on top of the desk in front of the monitors. The guard quickly rushed over and pushed Mike's feet off the desk. Mike startled awake, grabbing hold of the arms of the chair. He looked around the room until he seen who had jerked him awake.  
  
"Dang Henry what the hell you do that for?" Mike began to rub away the sleep from his eyes. "Man I had this killer dream about this chick and me on a deserted island."  
  
"Mike you moron you're suppose to be watching the monitors not sleeping!" Mike could see the vein in Henry's neck ready to pop out and explode. He looked at Henry and flashed him a 'what are your worried look'.  
  
"Henry relax you're going to give yourself a heart attack before you turn 60. Nothing has changed. So what kind of pizza did you get?" Mike bounced off his chair and headed towards the box. Totally shrugging off Henry's outburst.  
  
Henry turned to watch Mike grab a slice. Shaking his head. The kid really didn't know the kind of consequences he could get himself into. Especially with Irons and Nottingham. Taking a deep breath the older guard tried to explain how important that there was no room for errors in this company.  
  
"Look kid you really don't want to screw up here. Nottingham runs a very tight, and I mean tight security. That's one person you don't want to cross. So there is no room for errors."  
  
"Henry chill alright nothing interesting has happened. Elevator car 3 is still locked and Mr. Irons is on his way down as we speak. What could possibly go wrong?" Mike pointed at the large panel of television sets that adorned the wall. Henry turned to look at situations of the two cars. Car 3 was still locked and looks like the occupants were doing all right. The woman that was stuck with Nottingham was still huddled in her corner of the elevator. He recognized her as that NYPD detective. He never knew the kind of business she had with Irons and Nottingham. But then again this was a place where you don't let your curiosity get to you. Like they said curiosity killed the cat. Though he had to admit Irons' strange request to lock the elevator car did pull at his curiosity. Henry simply shrugged it off.  
  
Henry turned his eyes to check out elevator 2. The one Mr. Irons should be riding down in. His face turned a ghostly white when he seen Mr. Irons sprawled on the elevator floor, unconscious. He immediately began punching keys on the console. Nothing happened. He couldn't understand why the car was stuck. Everything had been in working order for the past hour. What the hell was going on?  
  
Mike eyed Henry over his pizza. He dropped the slice back in the box when he finally realized something was very wrong. He quickly made his way to the console and looked at the television screen Henry had pointed to. Mike matched Henry's pale color. He could see Mr. Irons limp form.  
  
"Oh shit!" Mike nervously ran his hands through his hair.  
  
"We gotta get Nottingham and find a way to unlock car 2." Just as Henry was about to pick up the phone it rang.  
  
"Security"  
  
"This is Nottingham" Mike watched as Henry slowly pulled the phone from his ear and stared at in horror. To Mike's surprise Henry managed to turn a few more shades of white. 'Shit this is not good' Mike thought to himself as sweat began to from on his forehead. 


	16. Chapter sixteen

"Mr. Nottingham, uh?"  
  
"We have a situation, sir." Even before the security guard uttered out the words Ian knew something was wrong. He could easily sense the fear and anxiety in the guard's voice. In the background Ian was able to pick up the mutterings of the other guard. He too sounded nervous, Ian could vaguely hear a few profanities and prayers being said.  
  
"What seems to be the problem?" Ian inquired to the guard on the phone. Clearing his throat Henry began to explain to Ian of Irons current condition. Ian brows furrowed as he listened to the guard's explanation. Something was definitely not right with his story. How was it possible that Irons was stuck in an elevator? Had the guard not tell him that the elevators were not operational, that it was going to be another hour and a half before it did?  
  
"How long has Mr. Irons been unconscious?"  
  
Henry looked over at Mike who hadn't stop pacing since they found about Irons. Poor kid was really shiting in his pants. Unfortunately for him Mike had been the one left in the room while Henry went out to pick up some dinner. Henry covers the mouthpiece to the phone and repeated the question to Mike.  
  
"How the hell should I know I was sleeping remember." Mike ran another nervous hand through his hair. Henry angrily eyed Mike. This was entirely his fault. If he hadn't been sleeping on the job they would have caught the problem before it had escalated into something big. Henry uncovered the mouthpiece and began to speak again.  
  
"I'm not sure, sir. I wasn't the one supervising the monitors. I had been out grabbing dinner, sir." Ian could hear the other guarding cursing in the background.  
  
"Let me speak to the one who had been left in charge in your absence." Ian ordered.  
  
Henry handed the phone to Mike at once. He let out a sigh of relief when the phone had been taken out of his hand. As if the all his worries were lifted off his shoulders and he had nothing to fear. Mike on the other hand didn't feel the same. He gripped the phone, swallowed the lump in this throat, and lifted the receiver to his ear.  
  
"Sirr..sir?"  
  
"How long has Mr. Irons been unconscious?" Ian repeated.  
  
"I.I don't know, sir." Sweat began to run down along his face.  
  
"Why is it you don't know? Were you incapacitated at the time?" Ian was sure that the guard must have fallen asleep during Irons' 'situation'.  
  
"Yes sir" Mike's voice was nothing more then a mere whisper.  
  
"Then can you tell me what time Mr. Irons left his office and entered the elevator?"  
  
To Mike's relief it was the only question he was able to answer. Henry had just left to pick up some dinner. He remembered seeing Irons leaving his office and a few minutes after he was riding down on one of the elevator cars. He closed his eyes trying to recall the time.  
  
"Mr. Irons left his office at preciously at 6:15 p.m. A few short minutes after he had entered elevator car 2 making his way down." Mike held his breath as he anticipated Ian's reaction. But all he heard was silence. Ian began to calculate the difference of time in his head.  
  
"Let me speak to the other guard." Mike gladly returned the phone to Henry. He didn't have time to respond before Ian spoke.  
  
"What time is it now?" Ian demanded.  
  
"6:45 p.m., sir"  
  
"Did you not inform me that the elevators were not operational? That it would have taken another hour and half before it was?" Henry nodded then realized that Ian was not able to see him.  
  
"Yes I did, Mr. Nottingham."  
  
"Then how is it possible that Mr. Irons is now trapped in an elevator that was not supposed to be operational?" Ian could hear the heavy sigh at the other end of the phone. He knew that it was possible to keep an elevator locked in place while the others were still running. It was a safety feature he made sure was installed. He never thought he was going to be on the receiving end of it.  
  
Henry wasn't too sure that Irons would appreciate him telling Nottingham about the elevators. Yet Irons only ordered him to lock the elevator and lie to Nottingham about it. He never mentioned not tell Nottingham the truth. He didn't like the fact he had to choose between Irons and Nottingham. But the situation called for it and he was going to take his chances with Nottingham. Henry took in one last breath and began to explain to Ian. "Everything has been in working order for the past hour, sir." After a short pause Henry continued.  
  
"Mr. Irons had ordered for the elevator car that you were in to remain locked and not to inform you about it. He didn't specify the reasons why, and that he was going to give further instructions when he arrived from his office. We honestly don't know how long Mr. Irons had been unconscious and why the elevator has stopped running."  
  
Ian quietly listened and knew that the guard was telling him the truth. There was nothing in his voice that would tell him other wise. All that left Ian were questions he had no answers to. What was Irons up to? What would he gain going through so much trouble? Ian turned to glance at Sara. She was still trapped in her vision but not for long. He needed to get out of there. He needed some time to figure out what Irons' plans were. Then hopefully have a chance to discuss with Sara what had happened between them. Even though she had no idea what had transpired. His train of thought was broken when he heard the other guard over the phone.  
  
"Henry look the elevator is working again."  
  
"Mr. Nottingham." Ian interrupted before Henry could continue.  
  
"Have the other guard tend to Mr. Irons. Make sure that he is alright."  
  
"Do you want me to unlock your elevator car, sir?"  
  
"No, I want you to follow through on your instructions. Just simply wait for Mr. Irons."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And Henry." Ian still sounded calm but Henry no doubt sensed the threat that lay deep within Ian's voice. The man actually called him by his first name. Meaning Ian knew who he was. That was a feeling Henry did not like.  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"This phone conversation never happened. Is that clear?!"  
  
"Yes sir!" But the only thing Henry could here was silence on the other end and the thundering sound of his heart beating against his chest. With a sigh of relief Henry gladly hung up the phone. He took out a handkerchief and wiped up his sweat off his face.  
  
"So what did Nottingham say?" Mike anxiously asked. Henry looked at the rookie and for once, since the whole ordeal happened, he smiled.  
  
"Let just say we are the most luckiest bastards on this earth. Nottingham wanted you to tend to Mr. Irons. Make sure he was okay, and to forget." Henry pointed to the phone.  
  
". that our phone conversation never happened."  
  
Mike raised his hands in surrender. "Hey you don't have to tell me twice, Henry. I just can't wait till our shift is over. Well I'm going to check up on Mr. Irons." Mike left the room and headed straight for the elevators.  
  
"Yeah you do that kid. Man if a heart attack doesn't kill me the stress from working here will." Henry muttered out loud as he laid his face in his hands.  
  
~*~ 


	17. Chapter seventeen

~*~  
  
Ian had to hurry and take action. There was no doubt that Irons was up to something. Just as he replaced the receiver it suddenly hit him. Ian was still unsure of the reasons behind Irons plans. But why he had wanted them trapped was simple really and Ian didn't know why he hadn't known it sooner. It had all been about: time. It gave Irons the opportunity to formulate a plan. Give him time to prepare and put his plans into action.  
  
It was no secret that Irons was becoming weary with Sara and her constant rejection to his offers and advances. Irons were always a man in control and the fact that he had no control over Sara infuriated him greatly. No control over the wielder, no control over the Witchblade. Something he has been attempting to gain since his brush with the powerful blade.  
  
And there was no doubt the recent event involving Ian's newfound feelings for Sara had influenced the actions being taken now. That night Irons had punished Ian for his infatuation and devotion towards Sara Pezzini, Ian still had some of the bruises and a small scar across his eyebrow was a reminder. It was obvious that Irons no longer felt he could trust Ian completely. He was unaware how deeply Ian felt for the wielder, he didn't realize that his once loyal and faithful servant was indeed in love with Sara. Not what Irons would have suspected at all.  
  
However his plans had been impeded when Irons had somehow been trapped in another elevator. How though? The guard had told Ian everything had been in working order. Could it have been another malfunction in the systems the guards may have overlooked? Suddenly from the corner of his eyes Ian had seen the bright glow of the Witchblade. If he hadn't known any better he would have thought the blade had just winked at him. Could the blade have situated Irons' little 'accident'? As if to answer his question the Witchblade once again flashed its crimson color before it lowered to a near dull color. Ian stared wide-eyed at the now stagnant bracelet.  
  
Inadvertently Ian let his leather clad fingers graze over his left wrist. Lightly rubbing against the two faint scars left by his encounter with the Witchblade. Ian had finally comprehended what needed to be done. Though he hated to leave Sara behind he knew he had to, for now. If Irons was up to something, no doubt that he was, he was not going to give Irons the advantage by staying in the elevator. Trapped like a caged animal waiting for the doors to open and be lead out by its master. Only to be punished for acting against the master's wishes. No, Ian was not going to wait. Ian needed to gain back the valuable time he already lost and regain control.  
  
Ian had managed to unlock and open the access door to roof of the elevator car. Taking one last glance at Sara Ian leapt up, grabbed a hold of the edges and hoisted himself through the small opening. He quickly closed the door and immediately worked on unlocking another access door that would lead him to a secret passageway. Soon enough Ian was making his way back down to the first floor where he would be awaiting for both Sara and Irons' arrival.  
  
~*~  
  
He could hear the faint muffled sounds reaching out to him. Through the darkness, beyond the fog the sound grew louder but still not clear enough to distinguish what it was. Another second past and he knew he heard his name being called out. 'Who's there?' But no words escaped his lips. 'What is going on?' He couldn't even hear his own voice. Then he heard it again. His name being called out. Trying to pull him back from the abyss. But who could be calling out to him? Elizabeth maybe? No it couldn't be she was dead. Then it must be the blade calling out to him then. He heard it again. Yes, it had to be the blade.  
  
"Mr. Irons are you alright?"  
  
'Wait!' he thought. It wasn't an angelic voice he would imagine the blade to be or anyone else for that matter. The voice had no doubt belonged to a man.  
  
"Mr. Irons?" The booming voice called out his name again. The voice certainly didn't belong to his servant Ian Nottingham. So who in the bloody hell could be calling out to him?  
  
"Mr. Irons!?"  
  
Somehow the guard had managed to turn Irons over onto his back and began calling out to him. Irons snapped his eyes open to see one of the security guards hovering above him. Irons stared at the ugly visage of the guard above. Obvious confusion reflected on both faces. It didn't take Irons long to remember what had happened. He recalled the acute pain throbbing in his arm. The burning sensation traveled its way up from the brand on the back of his hand and along his arm. He vaguely recalled the elevator lurching to a halt, trapping him on the eleventh floor. Then as Irons continued to suffer from the horrible, corporeal pain darkness seemed to engulf him.  
  
The confusion in Irons' eyes was soon replaced with anger. Mike, the security guard had been the only poor soul there to feel Irons wrath.  
  
"Mr. Irons are you alright?" Mike asked again. He was still unsure if Irons had been coherent enough to respond.  
  
"No, you idiot I'm not alright!" Irons yelled back. Without assistance Irons managed to sit up on his own. Irons sat there for a brief moment. Looking down his right arm. He examined his scar on the back of his hand and began to flex his fingers making sure the digits still worked. The burning sensation and pain was gone as if it didn't existed. Only the dried blood that lined the circles of his scar, which he soon wiped away with his black silk handkerchief, had been the only evidence of what happened.  
  
Irons tried unsteadily to get to his feet. Mike on instinct offered his help and reached out to grab a hold of Irons arm but Irons jerked his arm away. "Don't touch me! Hand me my cane!"  
  
Mike began to search the elevator car and spotted the cane on the floor nearby the control panel. He bent over, picked it up and offered it back to Irons. Who in turn angrily snatched the cane. Irons with slight difficulty finally got to his feet.  
  
Mike simply stood there waiting for Irons to last out at him. He didn't know who was worst to face, Nottingham or Irons? But the look in Irons' icy blue eyes confirmed that Irons was, hands down, the worst to confront. After smoothing out his hair, dabbing away the sweat that had formed on his forehead and upper lip. Irons turned his attention to the tense guard. Irons smiled inside as he noticed the fear reflected in the guard's eyes.  
  
"What happened?!" Irons questioned as he closed the gap between them.  
  
Mike swallowed the lump in his throat and exhaled the breath he had been holding. "I.I don't know, sir?"  
  
"You don't know?! Then tell me what you do know you fool!" Irons said through gritted teeth.  
  
"I.I." Mike began to stutter.  
  
"I can't really explain wh..what ha.happened Mr. Irons. Everything had been in working order."  
  
"Apparently not!" Irons cut him off. Irritated that he had been stuck for who knows how long.  
  
Irons' eyes narrowed on the guard. His grip had tightened around the handle of his cane. He wanted so much to strike but Irons held himself back. He would soon his release frustration with Ian soon enough. Through his angered state Irons had almost forgotten about Sara and Ian, both still trapped. Unless that too had been ruined by those inept guards.  
  
"Tell me is the other car still locked as I have ordered?"  
  
"Y.yes sir" Mike idiotically nodded his head as he answered.  
  
Whither he was in a merciful mood or the fact that he had better things to look forward to; Irons had calmed down a bit. But he still held his icy gaze on the guard. Irons grinned imagining the look on both Sara and Ian's faces when they arrive. Irons hurriedly walked out of the elevator car, made his way into the lobby, and sat in one of the plush leather chairs. The guard obediently followed behind like a dog. Mike stood quietly awaiting more of Irons ire. To his surprise nothing came, instead Irons just gave him an order.  
  
"Go unlock the elevator car now!" Irons waved his hand and dismissed the guard.  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
Not taking any chances that Irons might change his mind Mike swiftly walked back to the surveillance room. Immediately upon entering he spotted Henry. The older man had his elbows rested on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Henry looked up when he heard the door open. He had been worried it might have been Irons but to his relief it was only Mike. Looking just as frazzled as he was.  
  
"You were right Henry. We are the world's luckiest S.O.B's. Irons wants you to unlock the elevator car, now." Mike slumped into the chair next to Henry's.  
  
At first Henry stared incredulously at Mike. Then quickly snapped out of it. Shaking his head 'Yup the stress is definitely going to kill me' Henry thought as he proceeded to unlock the elevator car.  
  
~*~  
  
Shortly after Ian left the elevator car, leaving behind Sara in her Witchblade induced vision. She had soon returned from her vision. She drew in a sharp gasp as if he had been holding her breath throughout the episode. But what was more surprising was the first word that escaped her lips.  
  
"Ian?"  
  
She blinked back the haziness and wiped away the tears. The elevator was still out of order; and Sara quickly swept the small room of the car. To her disbelief Ian was gone and she was left alone. Sara refused to admit that she felt disappointed that he wasn't there waiting for her like he has always done in the past.  
  
She looked up and noticed the access door to the roof of the elevator car. 'Not spiderman my ass' Sara thought. She couldn't help but feel an aching pang in her heart. 'Why would he leave me?' She questioned. Shaking her head looked down at her clasped hands.  
  
"Forget about it Pezzini. Why should you care, right?!" She spoke out. Hoping that if she said it out loud she would be able to convince herself that she didn't. But the emptiness she felt was still there. With a heavy sigh Sara made it up to her feet and began stretching out her sore muscles. 'Damn just how long had I been in my vision?' She wondered as she continued to stretch.  
  
Sara looked over at the control panel. Then to the empty spot were he had been standing half dressed. A blush crept back onto her face remembering how she brazenly watched him stripping down to his tank top.  
  
"Damn it Sara get a hold of yourself!" Sara admonished. Shaking her head she looked back at the control panel. May be she should try her luck and call security. At least she would know what the hell was going on. Just as she made her way to the panel her gaze lowered and a silver glint caught her interest.  
  
She walked over, bent down, and picked up the silver piece. It was Nottingham's ring. Sara studied the unique design, it was shaped as a dragon and in it's hands held a small piece of stone. The color unlike her crimson red stone was a cobalt blue. It was a beautiful ring but why did he leave it behind? Was he even aware that he didn't have it?  
  
As she held onto the ring the dichotomy of sensations rushed through her. Love and hate; pain and ecstasy; devotion and betrayal; disdain and compassion; loss and completion. In a matter of moments whatever had its grip on her had finally loosen and let her go. Though the emotions weren't as intense now it still lingered in her mind and worse in her heart.  
  
Sara shook her head again and stood up. She placed the ring in her pants pocket and rubbed her face with her hand. "What the hell. Shit was it 'Mess with Pezzini's head and screw up her life' day or something?" Sara soon remembered that she was planning to call security and find out what was going on. Just as she was about to reach for the phone the bright lights of the elevator lit up and she could fee the cool air of the AC start up again. She heard the faint sound of the elevator working, then felt the slight shift of gravity as the elevator continued its slow descent.  
  
"Its about damn time!" She yelled out. Forgetting the phone Sara made her way back to her little corner. Picked up her discarded coat and placed it back on. Not bothering to button up her coat. She then reached up and undid the loose bun, letting her brown tresses cascade down her back. She gathered her hair and was about to pull in back into a ponytail when the elastic band snapped. With a sigh Sara looked at the ruined rubber band in her hand.  
  
"Why am I not surprised? Gee, I wonder what else should I be expecting tonight?!" She said as she placed the rubber band in her pocket and bent down to pick up her helmet. With her helmet secured under her arm Sara stood in front of the metal doors and watched the flashing numbers change with each passing floor.  
  
Finally the elevator came to a halt as it reached the first floor. A soft ding sounded and the metal doors quietly hiss opened. 'Shit!' was the first word that ran through her head. There in front of Sara stood Irons and that annoying smirk of his. 


	18. Chapter eighteen

Without saying a word Sara pushed her way past Irons distancing herself, from the metal box that she had been trapped in for the past few hours, and from the man himself. The images of what Irons had done to Nottingham were still fresh and vivid in her mind. It took a lot of will power she wasn't too sure she possessed not to wipe that smirk off his face. Sara stopped as she made her way over to one of the chairs in the lobby. She placed her helmet on the chair and began to straighten out her coat, trying to keep herself busy. As much as she wanted to just leave she wanted to find out what happened to Nottingham. Where had he disappeared? The only way to find out was to stick with Irons a bit longer.  
  
Irons watched after Sara but never faltered from his position by the elevator doors. He still held that grin of his; happy with himself that he had gotten the reaction he wanted from Sara. It was obvious that she was surprised to see him but there was something else there. He couldn't quite place what it was but he simply waved it off as agitation from being trapped in the elevator with Ian for so long. Speaking of Ian Irons suddenly remembered.  
  
As Irons peer into the empty elevator his smirk was soon replaced with disbelief. His mouth fell open and his eyes widen. Ian was gone, nowhere in site. Irons couldn't understand. 'Just where had Ian disappeared to? How long had he been gone?' the more questions that ran through his mind the more upset Irons became. Ian had managed to take away a bit of control from his master. Irons didn't like the feeling that Ian outwitted him yet he couldn't help but feel a bit proud of him. Ian did learn from the best. However Irons did not tolerate insolence from anyone especially from Ian. Irons looked over his shoulder to Sara. Who had managed to button up her coat and was now smoothing back her long brown locks.  
  
From the corner of her eyes Sara could see the stunned expression on Irons' face when he had looked into the empty car. She turned her back on him hiding the small smile that formed on her lips. This was the first time that Sara had seen Irons so off guard. 'If Irons was so surprised that Nottingham wasn't there in the elevator does that mean he wouldn't know where he had disappeared to?' Sara so into her thoughts didn't hear Irons come up behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on ends as she listened to Irons suave, calculating voice. Sara lifted her eyebrow she knew the man was up to something. She turned to look at Irons, though he had managed to cloak his expressions, Sara knew that he was still irritated with Ian' disappearing act.  
  
"I am truly embarrassed by the circumstances that have been forced upon you, Sara. I do hope you can accept my sincerest regrets and deepest apologizes." Irons bowed his head and looked up at her.  
  
Irons sorry act remained Sara of Nottingham. How he would bow his head, always averting eye contact. How he would, in rare moments, look up from his bowed head and bless her the chance to stare into his hazel eyes. Just remembering sent shivers down her spine. Yet when Irons attempted it only made her more aware just how much she hated him. Sara cleared her throat and looked at Irons.  
  
"Well Mr. Irons." Sara was pleased that Irons disliked how she dragged on with the formalities. ".shit happens and you move on. You couldn't have controlled the situation so there is nothing to apologize for."  
  
Sara couldn't fight the niggling feeling that Irons actually had a hand in the whole elevator situation but wasn't too sure how. There was no way Sara could prove it and Irons was not about to confess his mischievousness to her. 'Had Ian been apart of the plan? Or had he sense foul play from his master too? Could that have been the reason why he left her alone?' Sara mentally shook her head. 'Why would Ian go against his master in the first place?' The doubts she had about Ian had risen again.  
  
"I suppose you are right, Sara. Yet I still cannot help but feel responsible. Which is why I would like to offer you a way home. I'm sure it would be poor judgment on your behave to be riding your vehicle in this storm."  
  
Sara's mind had been so caught up with the whole elevator ordeal she had forgotten about the rainstorm. She looked out through the glass windows, the sun had already settled and the dark clouds above were evidence that it had indeed been raining. But to Sara's delight the rain and turned into a light drizzle. Enough for her to handle while riding the Buell back home. Sara grinned at Irons, who in return mistook her happiness as acceptance. His smirk grew wider into a sly smile.  
  
"Thank you for the offer Mr. Irons but I think I can manage home just fine riding my bike. As you can see the storm has already passed." Sara gladly pointed outside.  
  
Irons didn't bother to hide the disappointment in his voice. "Yes I see. It looks like the situation has indeed." There was a pause in Irons' voice. As he looked out he spotted the familiar black shadow patiently standing by the limo. ".changed."  
  
Sara immediately sensed Irons was seething. The man was like a faucet. One minute he was cold as ice the next he was fuming under the collar. She stole a glance outside and could see why. Ian was outside in the rain standing next to a black limo. Just seeing him there made the blade heat up on her arm. She pulled down on her coat sleeve and bent to pick up her helmet.  
  
"Well since you are so intent on riding your bike in the rain I bid you a good evening, Detective." Irons said without a second glance and a dismissive wave.  
  
Sara didn't wait for the heavens to open up and give her a sign. With a firm hold of her helmet she stormed out of Vorshlag and headed straight for her bike. Irons not far behind. The unwavering strides brought Iron closer and closer to Ian. From a distance Sara watched from her vantage point. She still had yet to admit to herself that she was thrilled to see Ian again. Her heart began to beat faster as she watched an angry Irons make his way over.  
  
It had been a difficult decision to leave Sara it had proven to be the best- chosen course of action. His hurried journey to the first floor was difficult but Ian had managed to arrive before Irons was aware that he was missing. Ian's brush with the blade had left him in a disorient state but he managed none the less. Ian had called ahead for the limo and positioned himself next to the vehicle. From his vantage point Ian had been able to see through the glass windows and into the building. He immediately spotted Sara and Irons. Though he lacked the ability to hear the ensuing conversation between the two the body language in itself spoke volumes.  
  
Ian smiled as he watched Irons peer into the elevator car. No doubt surprised that his servant was not there. Ian was even more ecstatic when it was obvious that what ever Irons' had planned for Sara was not falling through. Ian's smile soon faded once Irons took notice of his presence outside. After what appeared to be a dismissive wave from Irons; Sara was first to walk out of the building. To his surprise she spied a glance towards Ian. For a brief moment their eyes locked. Without warning his mind was twirled to images of what happened in the elevator and that kiss. Ian closed his eyes and took in deep breaths, trying to regain his control and will the visions away. Now was not the time to be caught off guard by Irons.  
  
Ian had managed to subdue the visions at bay and disciplined his facial expression. Though his face remained stoical it was his eyes that held on to all his emotions. Ian knew that it was his eyes that would betray him. So with his hands clasped behind his back Ian bowed his head and lowered his gaze to the ground. In the distance Ian could hear the rhythmic cadence of Irons' cane hitting the concrete ground. Soon the tapping sounds of the cane stopped and Ian had a clear view of Irons leather loafers.  
  
Irons were only two maybe three inches taller than Ian but he used those extra inches to tower over him. Irons tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on Ian somehow willing him to look up from his bowed head. He felt the cold metal of Irons' cane when Ian made no move. Irons had placed the heavy handle of the cane under Ian's chin. Then sharply pushed till Ian's head snapped up. Ian averted his eyes not wanting to look at Irons. Both knew that Irons was not pleased with the outcome of the night. And Irons was going to use Ian as a way to release his pent-up frustrations.  
  
"I must say recent turn of events have made up for what I had assumed would be yet another boring night. Imagine my surprise when I had been informed that my loyal servant and the wielder were both trapped in an elevator. It's truly every man's dream to be trapped for hours in an elevator with a beautiful woman. So tell me young Nottingham what happened in that elevator, hm?"  
  
Ian did not answer and avoided eye contact with Irons. This act only enraged Irons more. Irons pushed the cane higher until Ian's head was positioned in an uncomfortable angle and he had no choice but to lock his gaze with Irons. Ian held his tongue still and said nothing. It didn't matter now; Irons could see it in Ian's eyes. It was undeniable that something had transpired in that elevator and Irons was determined to find out. Irons removed the cane from under Ian's chin and motioned for the door to be opened. Without hesitance Ian reached for the door handled and held it opened. Irons stopped half way and before getting in completely he tapped the cane handle against Ian's chest as he spoke.  
  
"We will continue this discussion back at the mansion and you will tell me what happened. But before then I want you to go home and freshen up. You reek of perspiration. Then you will make sure Sara has arrived safely home. Is that understood, Ian?"  
  
"Yes sir." Ian finally answered.  
  
Ian finally closed the door after making sure Irons got in. Ian spied another glance at Sara as he moved behind the car. Ian got into the car, got behind the wheel, and revved up the engine. He slowly unclenched his left hand feeling the strange sensation running up his arm, along with the anger emitting from Sara. Was she concerned about him? Pushing the thought aside Ian put the car in gear.  
  
Sara, who had stayed back to watch the little power play between Irons and Ian, watched from a distance as the black limo drove away. Her right hand had been clinched in a fist for so long he was starting to turn white. Sara had gotten upset as she watched Irons use the cane to yank Ian's chin up. Remembering all to well the last time Irons had used a cane to get Ian's attention. The blade pulsated on her wrist wanting to activate. She had to wield the thirst away. She pushed back down the lust to thrust the blade through Irons. The feeling only intensified until finally Irons had let Ian go but not before warning Ian once again. 


	19. Chapter nineteen

Sara watched as the backlights of the car disappear behind a building as it turned a corner. It was only then did Sara put on her helmet, mounted her Buell, and revved the engine. It had been a difficult ride back home. The light drizzle she first rode in had gradually picked up and by the time she reached her apartment building she was soaked through. After parking the bike Sara hurriedly made her way inside. Wet footprint and puddles of water formed as she slowly made her way up the stairs. Her earlier conversation with Irons ran through her mind.  
  
"Thank you for the offer Mr. Irons but I think I can manage home just fine riding my bike. As you can see the storm has already passed."  
  
"Managed my ass. It was a miracle she didn't crash along the way home." The storm she had thought 'passed' had decided to erupt while she rode home. Making her trip difficult by making the roads slick and the air chilly.  
  
Finally Sara made it to her apartment, unlocked the door, and got in. After getting in she closed the door and locked it. For a moment she leaned back and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief now that she was finally home. 'Ah.shit!' she opened her eyes and stared at another flight of stairs she had to climb. 'Well at least its better then a damn elevator.' Immediately her thought turned to Nottingham and Irons.  
  
The black limo lurched up to the front of the mansion. Ian got out of the car, not bothering to shield himself from the pouring rain, and made his way to the back of the car. He opened the umbrella that was in his left hand, held it high above, and opened the door. Irons took his time getting out of the car. He watched from inside of the car as the rain pelted down on an unsheltered Ian. Ian didn't use the covers of the umbrella to protect himself from the icy raindrops. He knew Irons would disapprove and only punish him for it. So instead he patiently waited for Irons to emerge from the limo.  
  
Finally one leather clad loafer stepped out of the car and landed softly on the wet gravel. Soon enough the rest of Irons gracefully made his way out. Ian adjusted the arm that was holding the umbrella making sure his master was fully protected. It was only a few feet until the shelter of the porch would protect them both. But Irons took his time, stopping just a few inches away from the porch. He looked out into the dark stormy night. The heavy rain pounding the ground and then he turned his attention to Ian.  
  
"The storm has once again made an unexpected appearance. I do hope that the fair Sara has made it home safely. I would hate to hear the good detective getting herself into an accident. It would be quite devastating if something were to actually happen to her. Don't you agree Ian?"  
  
"Yes" Ian lowered his head and kept his voice composed but as the allusion ran through his mind he was becoming more anxious. He wanted to go to her. To see for himself that she was all right. Suddenly a strange sensation ran up from his left wrist. The feeling had a calming affect and Ian's concern for Sara eased. Ian couldn't explain what had just happened but he knew somehow the Witchblade was involved and it was telling him Sara was indeed safely home. It had been obvious Irons wanted a reaction out of Ian. But was disappointed when he didn't get one. Frustrated he turned back to the mansion and quickly walked in. Ian, soaked through from the rain, followed not too far behind.  
  
Irons headed straight for the den. He faced the great hearth, leaning heavy against his cane. He let the fire warm his body while his servant stood in the middle of the den, dripping wet and shivering from the icy cold rain. Irons stared deep into the orange glow of the fire.  
  
"Tell me Ian what exactly happened in that elevator this afternoon?"  
  
Irons picked up a piece of cloth off of a near by table and began to wipe down his cane. He began to polish the handle until the golden metal immaculately shined in the afterglow of the fire. Ian didn't know how much Irons had witnessed from the surveillance videos. So he didn't know where he should start telling the truth and where he should start lying. Though he knew lying to Irons was useless. The man just knew when he was being told the truth and being deceived. Irons should know the difference. After all Kenneth Irons is the best when it comes to deception. Ian treaded the issue carefully.  
  
"I am not sure sir. I had been on my way down to retrieve the car like you had ordered." Irons walked towards Ian, still polishing the cane handle.  
  
"When I entered the elevator car I had not realized Lady Sara.." Irons eyes widen as he listened to Ian giving Sara such a reverent title. Irons had first noticed when Ian started to show respect for the detective, calling her 'Lady Sara'. It was when he had unsuccessful returned home without the Witchblade the night of the Irish massacre. There was no doubt Ian had lied to him about what happened that night. But for now he wanted to know what happened this afternoon. The image of Ian kneeling in front of Sara, ready to touch her with his bare hands, was still there in the back of his mind.  
  
".was already occupying the car. It was mere coincidence when I entered." Irons struck Ian across the face with the back of his hand. Drops of water splashed across the room and loose strands of his wet hair stuck to the side of Ian's face.  
  
"There are no coincidences, Ian!"  
  
Ian knew there were no coincidences when it comes to the Witchblade and the wielder. But what else could he say? He had been so anxious after he had heard Sara inquiring about him, albeit to simply question him, but he would seize any opportunity to be with her. How could he tell Irons that he had rushed to see her standing by the elevator? Watched then waited until that last moment to squeeze through before the metal doors closed her away from him. To tell him he wanted that small respite with her no matter how short it may have been. Just being so close to her then was enough to keep him happy for God knows how long. No, he could not tell this to Irons, to his master, to his keeper.  
  
"What happened in that elevator, hm!?" Irons growing frustration could be heard in his voice. He had stopped polishing the metal handle and simply tighten his hold on the cane. His grip was so tight Iron's knuckles were turning white.  
  
Ian didn't immediately answer so Irons jabbed the metal handle against Ian's side. Eliciting a sharp hissing sound from Ian. Irons repeated his question and again Ian was not quick enough to answer. This time sinking the heavy metal into Ian's stomach causing the man to double over and dropping him to his knee. Ian returned to his feet a soon after taking in a deep breath Ian began to speak.  
  
"I was informed that there was a malfunction in the systems." Irons walked behind him and stuck the wooden part of the cane across Ian's back. Ian jerked forward from the blow.  
  
"The wielder Ian! What happened between Sara and yourself, hm?! It was quite a show you put on for her. Stripping in front of Sara like that. It was very brave of you to actually expose yourself to her in such a manner. Tell me did your disfigured body revolt her? Did she turn away from you like I know she would?"  
  
Ian's mind flashed back to what had happened. Yes, she did turn away from him but not for the reasons Irons had stated. He remembered that lustful look in those enchanting green eyes of hers. A look no one had ever given to him before in his entire life. He wanted nothing more then to be lost in those emerald orbs. Ian attempted to lower his head but Irons grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. The longing look was reflected in Ian's eyes. Irons let go of his hair and slapped Ian across the face again. Then took the cane and landed the handle against the right side of his ribs. Ian let out another groan but his face remained impassive, but the pain was there in his eyes.  
  
Irons willed himself to control his anger. He wanted nothing more then to release his frustration out on Ian but he wanted answers. Remembering the excruciating pain he felt while in the elevator. Something had occurred with the Witchblade and could not fathom what. Sara was not going to confide in him, which only left him Ian.  
  
"The Witchblade had pulled Sara into another vision. She had been under the blade's spell for quite some time. I was unsure what was happening so I tried to wake from her trance but it appeared the blade refused to let her go. I decided it would be best to serve Sara if I was able to find a way to get the elevators to work quickly as possible. And so I left her behind. By the time I had reached the control room the elevators were working and I had witnessed, through the surveillance cameras, that Sara was pulled back from her vision by then. That is when I decided to retrieve the limo like you asked, sir." Of course Ian deliberately left out the information about what the blade had done with him.  
  
Amazingly as Irons looked into Ian's eyes all he could see was the truth. 'Could it be possible that Ian really did not know what happened to Sara during her vision?' Irons thought. He stared at Ian once again then decided it was useless. The only one who could possibly tell him what had happened was a woman who seemed to hate his every being. If she continued to refuse him like she has in the past there was no question that it may be time to reclaim what was rightfully his. May be it was time to take back the Witchblade from the fair Sara.  
  
Irons brought back the handle of the cane and swung it across Ian's face once again. Fortunately the blow did not draw blood. But the discoloration could be seen on Ian's face.  
  
"Go clean yourself up, make sure Sara made her way home safely and continue your surveillance." Ian composed himself before leaving. He straightened his stance but kept his head bowed. Turning around he walked towards the door until Irons' voice stopped him.  
  
".but from a distance. Do not make any contact with the wielder. If I find out you have disobeyed me Ian the consequence shall be severe. Do you understand?" Ian made no comment.  
  
"Go Ian. Your Lady Sara awaits." Irons snorted at his sarcastic comment. He turned back to the fire and sat in one of the leather winged back chairs.  
  
Without a word Ian left the den. Quickly making his way to his room. He locked the door behind him and walked over to a chair. With much difficulty he removed his waterlogged boots. Then began to peel of the layers of soaked garments off. Leaving the wet clothes and boots in the corner Ian made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and waited till the room bellowed with steam. He stood under the scorching sprays of water. Letting the heat of the water relax his tensed muscles. Ian winced from the pain as he looked down at himself. He expected his body making sure there were no broken bones. Fortunately there was none. But that didn't lessen the pain. Lightly touching and seeing large bruises form on his abs, another on his right side and he could feel one also forming on the left side of his face.  
  
Ian quickly showered and changed into some dry clothes. As he was pulling on his gloves he only then realized he didn't have his ring. Ian searched through the wet clothes and found nothing. He then let his mind drift back and realized he must have left it on the floor of the elevator car. He needed to find the ring. Ian couldn't explain why but he didn't feel right without it. Ian wasn't sure if Irons had given it to him. He had had it for so long he just couldn't remember where it came from. What Ian could remember was that he was never apart from it. Even as a little boy he had the ring with him. It was on a silver necklace and Ian would wear it around his neck until he was able to wear it on his finger.  
  
Rushing out of his room Ian to make his way back to Vorshlag. Soon after he would take vigilance over his Lady Sara. Ian hadn't bothered to report back to Irons in the den. If he had he would have found out what Irons was up to.  
  
~*~ 


	20. Chapter twenty

~*~  
  
After she had finally trekked up the last flight of stairs Sara had peeled off her soaked clothes, donned her cotton robe, and made a pot coffee before heading back into the bathroom. Sara decided she had deserved a nice long soak in a warm bath. She picked up the uniquely shaped bottle filled with azure colored crystals. She read the label on the bottle 'Relax'. She snorted at the appropriate title. Well it was definitely what she needed. After blending the bath salts into the steaming water, Sara removed her robe and slowly lowered herself in the tub. Sighing as the bath began to help her relieve her tense muscles and for the time being giving her peace of mind. Sara positioned herself against the tub, her head tilted back, and her arms resting along the edge to the tub.  
  
The rhythmic sounds of rain coming from outside and the aroma rising from the bath salts had lulled Sara into a light nap. There on her right wrist was the Witchblade. Ever since the Periculum Sara never bothered taking it off. Not that it would any way. As Sara slept the stone began to glow an angry red. Sara stirred in her sleep obviously being propelled into another vision.  
  
She watched as the black limo pulled up in front of the mansion. Ian had gotten out but didn't bother to protect himself from the cold rain. He walked around the limo and held the door open for Irons. The asshole had the audacity to stay in the car longer just to spite Ian's uncomfortable situation. Irons began to speak but it was as if the mute button had been turned on. All she could do was watch everything unfold before her. For a brief moment she had seen Ian's distress. Sara could feel the blade heat up on her arm. She looked down at the dormant bracelet. When she looked back up Ian's concern was gone. The two soon disappeared into the mansion.  
  
Wet, cold, and shivering Ian stood in the middle of the great room. Waiting for Irons of course. The succession of violence seemed never-ending to Sara. She watched as time and time again Irons striking Ian. Still she was unable to decipher what was being said. She winced with every blow. Finally the onslaught of Ian's punishments ended. With a blink of an eye she was in a room. She was in a bathroom, more specifically in Ian's. The sound of the shower turning off pulled her out of her assessment of the room. Sara had not time to react. The glass door of the shower stall was yanked aside and before her stood the magnificent naked form of Ian Nottingham.  
  
Though she knew it was wrong to stare at the man but she couldn't help it. She'd expected the man to be in shape but damn! He was a solid mass of sinew muscles, not one ounce of fat was visible. He stood with all his glory in front of Sara, his body glistening from the shower. She watched as drops of water began to roll down his body. She then swallowed as she followed the faint line of hair that started from the bottom of his navel. Traveling lower and lower to the large, grandeur of flesh she never thought she would see in this lifetime.  
  
Sara stared agape at the magnificent form of Ian Nottingham. 'My God is this what was hidden under all those layers of clothes?' Sara wondered to herself. As if to answer her the blade heated up on her arm. Briefly she glanced down at the blade. "I don't know if I should be angry or grateful with you for bringing me here." She whispered to the bracelet. She turned back to watch Ian dry himself off. The heat from the blade was no match to the fiery sensation that started to travel from the very core of her being and out through her entire body.  
  
But the fire was soon doused seeing him wincing from pain. Bruises could be seen forming over his abs, one on the right side of his ribcage and another on his face. The anger she felt while in the elevator was back. She snapped her eyes shut and shook her head. It was because of her he was being punished. "Damn it Nottingham why don't you fight back!" Sara yelled out. She opened her eyes only to find herself back in the apartment and in her tub. Sara didn't know how long she was under the Witchblade's spell but the water had turned cold and she immediately got out. "Don't know what the hell you're doing but that was not cool." The blade hissed back and returned to a quiet bracelet. Quickly she donned her gray, cotton pajama pants and a black sleeveless shirt. Sara padded bare foot into her kitchen and decided to order Chinese take out for dinner. Thirty minutes later her dinner arrived. Though her stomach growled she wasn't too sure she had much of an appetite. But her appetite was not for food. The image of Ian naked was still there in her mind.  
  
~*~  
  
The dark shadow had positioned himself on the rooftop of the building across Sara's apartment. His irritation was evident in his movements. Shifting from one foot to another, accompanied by an exasperated growl. Cursing away at the pelting rain. There was little shelter he could use to protect himself from the cold rain. Though he had not been there long he could feel the water soaking through his coat and hood. For the past ten minutes he had watched Sara lazy move about her loft. Oblivious that she was being watched. He wanted to move closer to get a better look of Sara. But even from this distance he could see her. She was exactly how he imagined her.  
  
".Do not make any attempt of any interaction with her."  
  
His earlier conversation with his master replayed in his mind.  
  
In the distance he had hear Irons and Dr. Immo discussing his state of readiness.  
  
"What are you afraid of? You said he was even better than his predecessor." Irons sat in his wooden throne like chair. Staring up at the good Dr. Immo. He could see the concern looks in the doctor's eyes.  
  
"Physically speaking. Psychologically, we have no idea what he is. I have grave concerns about his aggression levels." Immo knew it was useless to make any attempts of reasoning with Irons. But he still tried; it was true this new version was nowhere near his predecessor. He remembered staring into the empty voids of his eyes. Nothing, there was no soul to be found. And he knew that if Irons were not careful he would lose all control of this one.  
  
"Ian, do come down"  
  
Irons got up from his chair and both men stood before the great hearth and looked up onto the balcony of the library level. The dark shadow appeared before the railing and stared down at the two men.  
  
"Good afternoon, gentlemen." He gracefully floated down the stairs and stopped before both men.  
  
Though the doctor had been monitoring this version for quite some time now he still could not overcome the striking resemblance to the current Ian Nottingham. This one had his hair pulled tightly back into a club. His face cleanly shaven aside from the small tuft of hair below his lower lip. But that was as far as the likeness had gone.  
  
As a man of science he was ecstatic to be witnessing the impossible stand before him. Here stood a scientific find, a clone of Ian Nottingham. But this one lacked something that the original Nottingham possessed. The thought brought Dr. Immo back to his earlier concerns. Irons grinned with obvious satisfaction with his new acquired servant.  
  
Aside from the keen appearance of his predecessor this clone held no resemblance of the acquiescence of Ian Nottingham. This one stood before Irons with his head held high and his hands clasped behind his back. The clone boldly stared back at Iron, never wavering eye contact. With the obvious satisfaction showing on his master's face, the clone returned the gesture by flashing an arrogant grin. In his eyes reflected what Immo was afraid of. Pent up aggression accompanied by overconfidence.  
  
Immo cleared his throat catching both men's attention. The clone gave the doctor a malevolent stare. He had overheard the doctor's concerns to his master. Obviously the good doctor thought it was unwise to activate him. Clearly stating that this successor of the current Ian Nottingham was not good enough psychologically. But physically speaking he far exceeded his predecessor. The sound of Immo's voice broke through his thoughts.  
  
"How are you feeling today, Ian?" Immo questioned, staying as far as he could.  
  
"Restless" A simple word that summed up what he had been feeling since he had been awake.  
  
Immo began to walk around the clone. Carefully keeping his distance as he made a physical assessment.  
  
"Do you remember how you spent your day?" Immo asked.  
  
"No, sir. I think I've been asleep awhile" The clone began to sway slightly on his feet. He was indeed restless.  
  
"What do you remember?" Irons spoke up as he watched Ian.  
  
"My primary mission is to protect you." Irons nodded. Pleased at hearing the reverence in his voice. The clone continued with less feeling, less respect.  
  
".Following that, I protect Sara Pezzini, the wielder of the Witchblade." The clone's voice was void of any feelings. Unlike the show of reverence that of Ian Nottingham have when speaking about his 'Lady' and the Witchblade. This one had a distaste and lack of respect when it came to the both.  
  
"Do you know what she looks like?" Irons questioned.  
  
The clone closed his eyes. Though he had never seen the wielder in person the image of her was in his mind. His smile broadens and he opened his eyes.  
  
"Exactly"  
  
"What else do you know?" Irons continued his inquiry.  
  
"That there is another before me. That my immediate predecessor is defective in his emotional make-up. He's soft. This deficiency will cost him his usefulness, and thus his life. I share some of his memories. I know I only exist because you allow it." He looked at Irons and smiled. He knew his master and was ready to serve him beyond all means possible.  
  
Irons grinned. Satisfied in the knowledge that this one is entirely loyal to him and only him. Irons was not worried that his one would succumb to Sara's unique charms like Ian. Irons moved in closer and spoke again.  
  
"If the time ever arose, do you think you can retrieve Sara Pezzini?"  
  
"Oh, I feel capable of anything." The clone reassured Irons.  
  
"Do you have the appropriate tools?" Irons asked.  
  
The clone brought his hands up and looked at them. Then with a menacing expression he turned to stare at Dr. Immo. Remembering hearing the doctor's comment about his superior physical skills and his growing aggression. Immo took an involuntary step back, afraid at what he had seen and the implication of it.  
  
The clone shifted uncomfortably under the rain. Water was slowly trickling down the back of his neck. He snorted as he continued his surveillance over Sara. Unfortunately his master did not order him to retrieve the wielder. He could hear the conversation in his mind.  
  
"For now I want you to keep an eye on the wielder. Do not make any attempt of any interaction with her."  
  
"What of my predecessor?" He had been so anxious to confront Ian. Wanted to unleash is aggression and punish him for betraying their master.  
  
"I warn you Ian do not confront your predecessor. I only want you to watch. Watch over them both but do not reveal yourself. Record everything they do. Then return home before your predecessor does. Report to me of everything you see and hear. Is that understood?" Irons towered over the clone and bore his icy blue eyes into hazel ones. The clone did not waver from the threat but simply accepted his order from his master.  
  
"Yes I understand, master." The clone spoke out aloud into the rainy night. He continued to watch the wielder move about in her apartment. Her dinner had finally arrived; she sat at her table and began to spoon the contents from the box.  
  
'I am capable of anything. So why does he just want me to watch.' He was beginning to get bored until he spotted his predecessor. His predecessor had hidden himself well into the shadows, in an ally across Sara's building. He just stood there in the rain looking up to the window of the wielder.  
  
"What a pathetic site. His weakness will be his down fall." He sneered as he thought out loud. The clone kept a watchful eye between his so-called predecessor and the wielder. He looked down at his hands. 'Soon very soon.'  
  
~*~ 


	21. Chapter twenty one

~*~  
  
Sara stared vacantly out into her apartment. She sat at her kitchen table, absently picking at her food. The warm glow of the blade along with the flash of lighting pulled Sara out of her reverie. She blinked back dazedly as she swept her darkened apartment. Somehow during her daydreaming the power had gone out. 'Damn storm must have knocked one of the power lines' She thought as she stared out the window. Evidently the storm had picked up some momentum.  
  
The heavy sound of raindrops pounding against her windowpane echoed in her apartment. She blindly made her way to one of the drawers in her kitchen and pulled out a flashlight. Muttering a few choice curses while lighting candles as she quickly made her way around the apartment. She blew out the flame of the match and walked back into the kitchen. She placed the flashlight back in the drawer and returned to her seat.  
  
Sara picked up her fork and bit into the cold orange flavored chicken. She sighed when she realized her food had gone cold. It didn't matter she didn't have much of an appetite. She picked up the cartons of food and began to store them in her fridge. Not that she needed the leftovers. She had her suspensions on how or more so on who was responsible. Over the past weeks her kitchen had been miraculously stocked with everything to her favorite foods down to the bare necessities, especially coffee.  
  
Sara wasn't hungry but she opened a cabinet and reached for a coffee mug. Grateful that she had decided to brew a pot of coffee when she came home, before the power had unexpectedly been knocked out. She poured herself a cup and wandered into her living room. She sat on the couch, her back leaning against the armrest, and her legs drawn up to her chest. She wrapped her hands around the cup and stared out through the window. Then she took a careful sip of her coffee. She closed her eyes to the savory rich blend, letting the warm liquid run down her throat instantly warming the rest of her body. 'Well at least the man has good taste in coffees' she thought to herself.  
  
Sara opened her eyes, looked out the window, and stared at the empty fire escape. She felt a pang of disappointment that he wasn't there. She knew he had been watching over her since she obtained the Witchblade. There were times she had caught a glimpse of him out there. At first it had bothered her greatly that Irons saw fit to send his lapdog to watch her. After a while his presence had grown on her. She somehow felt safer when he was around watching her, protecting her. Knowing that she wasn't truly alone in this world. Yet she wasn't going to admit that to herself.  
  
It still left the fact that there was nothing left of her personal life that Nottingham didn't know about. Which meant that Irons too would have known all that was going on with her life. Did it also mean that he had been there during her time with John? She felt embarrassed at the notion that Nottingham standing outside on her fire escaping watching in on them. She shuddered at the thought of him reporting back to Irons at what he saw.  
  
Sara felt her anger rise again at the thought of Irons. She didn't want to think that because of that voyeuristic freak her precious moments with John were tarnished. The blade hissed on her arm, sending her a vision of Nottingham. In the background was a church and Nottingham was leaning against the wall at the bottom of the steps. He was bent over at the waist; his arms were close to his chest, looking as if he was going to be sick.  
  
The blade brought her closer to see his face. His forehead was coated in sweat, his mouth open, and breathing heavily. Looking as if he was suffering from something but from what? There in his eyes, glazed with tears, reflected such raw emotions: undeniable lust, desire, fear, and pain. It was the pain and fear that outshined everything else. He straightens up and let the wall support his large frame. Leaning back heavily against the wall Nottingham took a deep breath. Sara couldn't decide the reason why his body was still shaking. Was it from the cold night air or something else? He closed his eyes and tears began to stream down his face until it faded into his dark beard. Nottingham titled his head back against the wall, taking deep breaths. Soon his shaking abated and his breathing had returned to normal.  
  
Nottingham opened his eyes and in those hazel orbs Sara could see nothing. She couldn't find the right words to describe what she had seen. It reflected emptiness and loss. He pushed off from the wall, took another deep breath, and as he exhaled a puff of white smoke formed. He turned and started walking towards the church. His shoulders were slumped, his arms swung lazily, and he his head bowed. Sara watched as the black form disappeared. 'He looked as if he was fighting this great battle and was.defeated' Sara thought. A perfect word that described the Nottingham she had seen. Defeated.  
  
The vibrant stone on her bracelet quieted down and returned to a dull silence. Sara gasped as she was pulled back from her vision. Her sudden movements made the contents in her cup, which she still held in her hands, dangerously sloshing the hot liquid over the rim. Some of it landing on her left hand, Sara hissed from the burning sensation.  
  
"Damn it!" She placed the mug on the table and immediately made her way to the kitchen sink. She let the cool water run over her hand. Turing off the faucet she reached for one of her dish rags and dabbed at the small offending red mark on her hand. She threw the rag down and made her way back to the couch. Just as she passed the window the blade hissed again.  
  
"Oh no, you're not doing this to me again." She yelled at the bracelet.  
  
There was no sign of another vision but the stone began to glow an angry crimson. She lifted her hand to stare into the red stone. An image of a face flashed before in the stone. It was Nottingham but not the Nottingham she knew. This one was different somehow. His face was cleanly shaven besides a small patch of hair beneath his lower lip, and his eyes were cold and menacing. Sara tore her eyes away from the stone and looked out the window. She narrowed here eyes trying to look through not only the darkness but also through the rain. There on the roof top of the building across she had seen something. Within the blink of an eye it was gone.  
  
She looked down at the stone, now quiet and dormant. Before heading back to the couch she looked out the window, searching the vicinity. Finding nothing out there she returned back to the couch. As she sat down she couldn't help but be alert to an overwhelming sense that something wasn't right. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Sara reached over to the table, grabbed her cup and took a long sip of coffee. Hoping to ward off the chilly feeling she had. If she was being watched then it wasn't by Ian.  
  
'You mean Nottingham don't you?'  
  
Sara could still hear Danny's amusement over her little slip of the tongue. After taking another sip Sara couldn't help but grin. The grin soon faded when thoughts of him brought her back to what she had seen earlier. What had happened after? What was he doing now? Questions ran through her mind as she stared into her coffee, which only reminded her the color of his eyes. 'Where was he now?' She thought. 


	22. Chapter twenty two

~*~  
  
Ian wasn't sure how long he had been standing there. When he had arrived he searched what meager shelter he could find against the chilly rain and watched. Sometime during the night the storm must have knocked out the power, surrounding the area in darkness. Making it easier for Ian to blend into the shadows. From his position he was able to see Sara's apartment and the soft orange glow coming from the candles she must have lit. Among the bleak mass of darkness Sara was the only point of light. Ian thought of the ironic turn of events. Shrouded in nothing but shadows and above him was the 'light at the end of the tunnel'. Unfortunately he had ventured out to the light once only to find an invisible glass shield framed in iron. Separating him from the other end, from her.  
  
So Ian could do nothing but return to the shadows and hope for another chance. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. Letting the fresh sent of cold rain fill his lungs. He tilted his head back and opened his eyes. His breath rushed out in a ragged sigh. He gasped at the sight before him. He blinked several time making sure it wasn't his eyes playing tricks on him. Ian's eyes widen when he finally realized this was no trick. Ian stared at Sara, his eyes never wavering away from the image. Even through the rain he could see the enchanting beauty. Sara stood there near the window looking out, sweeping the surrounding area searching for what? He didn't know and he didn't care at the moment. He just stood there basking in her beauty.  
  
Ian had always been attracted to Sara since their first encounter at the Midtown museum. 'Magnificent' was the word he had used. In all aspect it was fitting. Here was a fiery, courageous woman facing death. She was everything he thought a true wielder should be. Now as she stood there in all her beauty there were no words that would describe what he felt. No words that would do her any justice. 'God, did the woman not know how truly beautiful she was just standing there?' He reflected as he stared at her.  
  
He let his eyes roam over her features, memorizing the image and burying it deep into the depths of his mind. How she stood there near the window, the candlelight dancing around her. Outlining her body in a radiating afterglow. He drank in the vision of her. The mass of chocolate locks cascading down to her bare, creamy shoulders. How the soft light reflected off her face. From this distance along with accompany of rain made it difficult to see the details of her facial features. But it didn't matter to Ian. The picture of her beautiful face was already imbedded in his mind. All he needed to do was close his eyes and there she was.  
  
The painful scream from his lungs reminded him he needed to breath. He tore his eyes away from Sara, taking several deep breaths. He looked up at her again when a sudden uneasiness overcame Ian. Sara still stood near the window staring at the Witchblade. She glanced out once again before disappearing back into her apartment.  
  
Ian wasn't sure if the feeling had been coming from Sara, the Witchblade, or maybe from his own anxiousness. Because for the past hour Ian had been contemplating if he should confront Sara. But it meant disobeying Irons strict orders. Irons warning ran through his mind.  
  
'.Do not make any contact with the wielder. If I find out you have disobeyed me Ian the consequence shall be severe. Do you understand?'  
  
Irons never indulged in idle threats. Ian knew the consequences would be severe if he disobeyed an order. He understood perfectly still feeling the pain from his last encounter with Irons. But he wanted no needed his ring back. He felt incomplete without it. Before he had arrived he had made a stop over at Vorshlag. Hoping to find the ring he had carelessly left behind in his haste. Unfortunately it was not in the elevator car as he originally thought. After questioning the two security guards Ian realized that Sara must have found it and took it with her. Did she know that it belonged to him and how important it was to him to get it back?  
  
It was still raining but it had lightened up considerably. Before he could change his mind Ian ran across and quickly climbed up the fire escape up to her apartment. Unaware of the vigilant sentinel watching from the rooftop across the street. Ian peered through the window and found Sara sitting on her couch. She hadn't noticed him on the fire escape. Her attention was somewhere else as she stared distantly into her coffee mug. The blade glowed lightly on her wrist aware of his presence. But it wasn't enough to catch Sara's attention. She brought the cup to her lips, drank the remaining contents, got up and headed for the kitchen. Ian took the opportunity to unlatch the lock and quietly creep in, closing the window behind him. He didn't make an attempt to move, standing in his customary stance he simply watched her.  
  
After placing her coffee mug in the kitchen sink Sara stood there holding on to the edges. The tolls of what had transpired today finally weighing in on her. She looked out the tiny window above the cabinets. It was still raining and he wasn't coming. A pang of disappointment had set in. 'Come on Pezzini you're only disappointed because you didn't get the chance to speak to him like you had planned to.' She half heartily convinced herself. She didn't want to believe it was for something else. She didn't want to convince herself that she actually missed him.  
  
Sara turned around and made her way back to her bedroom. Hoping that with a few hours of sleep things would turn out better in the morning. Sara snorted at the thought. In her world things never did. Sara still hadn't noticed Ian standing silently near her window. She brought up her fingers and began rubbing the side of her temple. It was then Sara caught sight swirling blade. She was already half way through her living room when she stopped. She glanced at the blade then towards the window. Sara was startled to see him there. He actually showed up.  
  
Ian looked up from his bowed head. Only to be transfixed by what stood before him. The vision he had seen earlier while he was outside didn't compare to this. There was no rain, no glass, to distort her beauty. And being this close to her only enhanced what he thought he had seen. Ian didn't dare blink, to afraid that if he closed his eyes for a mere fraction of a second she would disappear. His heart was pounding against his chest; beating so loudly he wasn't sure if she could hear it. For a brief moment his inhibitions were gone. His mouth parted open, his hands that were clasped behind his back now against his sides. His eyes widen in awe as he let his vision travel over her body and all too soon drowning in those fiery emerald green eyes of hers. For once he held his gaze with hers.  
  
Sara gasped aloud as their eyes locked. The myriad of emotions ran through those hazel orbs. As she stared deeply into them she could see the combinations of pure unadulterated lust, passion, loyalty, devotion, and something else she couldn't describe. Sara had to remember to breath as she gazed into them. Eyes so intense and powerful. Had it been this way the first time she had laid eyes on John? Now that she had thought back on it, no. Of course there was the obvious attraction. But with Ian there was something more, something she couldn't describe or control. And it was scaring her. It was then she finally tore her eyes away from his; it was then she spoke up.  
  
"Ah.Just what the hell are you doing her Nottingham?" Her attempt at being callous was weak. Her voice broke through and Ian returned to his habitual posture, head bowed and arms behind his back.  
  
"Forgive me Lady Sara. I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
'You have no idea, pal.' She thought to herself. Sara then realized that he was shivering. He was soaked and dripping on her floor. Without a word she made her way to the bathroom, returning with two large bath towels.  
  
"Didn't your mother ever teach you enough common sense to get out of the rain?"  
  
"My mother strangely silent on matters of import."  
  
"Yeah whatever." Sara stuck out an empty hand. Ian started at her from his bowed head. He looked at her hand then to her face. Confused on what she wanted from him.  
  
"The coat and watch cap. Give it up." She made a motion with her hand but Ian didn't make a move.  
  
"You don't have to tend to my needs, Lady Sara."  
  
"What did I tell you about that 'lady' crap. Besides I'm not tending to 'your' needs. Your coat is soaked and your dripping water all over my floor. So." Before she could finish her sentence Ian grabbed one of the towels out of her hand. He placed it on the spot he had been standing on and stood over it. No longer dripping on her floor.  
  
"Damn it Nottingham!" She made an exasperated sigh. "Coat and watch cap, now!"  
  
From the look on her face Ian knew there was no use in arguing with her. Ian finally shrugged off the coat and watch cap and gave them to Sara. She tossed the other towel at him and told him to dry off. She walked over to the stairs and laid out the articles of clothes over the banister. Then she made her way back to him.  
  
Arms crossed, Sara half sat on the armrest of the couch. She waited till he was done drying himself off. Which triggered her memory, remembering the last time she had seen him doing this. She lowered her head to hide the blush on her face. 'Get a hold of yourself, Pez!'  
  
"Thank you, la..Sara" He handed the towel back to her. Sara started her interrogation as she spread the towel on the back of the couch.  
  
"Alright Nottingham why are you here and what the hell do you want? I mean isn't it bad enough I had to be stuck with you in that damn elevator for hours." Her words were harsh and Ian winced at everyone. He lowered his head. Had he been foolish to go against Irons' orders and come here tonight? He could have waited till she fell asleep to search for his ring. Instead he came here to her. Hoping for what? He wasn't too sure. Then again it had been worth it. The picture of her beauty was another memory he would store deep into his mind. Unfortunately the price for it would be great.  
  
"I believe you have something of mine, Sara." 


	23. Chapter twenty three

~*~  
  
Sara was about to insist that she didn't know what he was talking about when she remembered the ring she had found in the elevator. 'So the ring did belong to him and he did forget it.' So had Sara. She had forgotten all about the ring. She made her way to the bathroom and fished for her coat. At first she had been apprehensive about touching the ring again. Unsure if the blade was going to thrust her into another vision for the fifth time this evening. Taking a deep breath Sara reached into her coat and felt the cool metal brush against her fingertips. She looked down at the blade, happy to see that it was quiet and dull.  
  
As she got up she looked at the ring in her palm. She could tell that the ring must have been very old by the intricate and unique design. Sara stood there in the middle of her bathroom. She bit her lower lip as she thought. 'Must really mean a lot to him.' Her mind was already reeling. The ring was representing an opportunity for her. 'Hm, wonder what he'd do to get this back' Sara thought as she headed out the bathroom.  
  
"This it?" Held between her forefinger and thumb was Ian's ring. With a silent sigh of relief Ian stuck his hand out, reaching for it. Sara pulled back, feigned interest and started to examine the unique jewelry.  
  
"I've never seen a ring like this before. Where did you get it Nottingham?"  
  
Ian lowered his hand and began to speak.  
  
"I do not know where it came from. I've had the ring as far as I could remember." He made another attempt to reach of it but Sara still refused to give it back.  
  
"Did Irons give this to you?" Ian lowered his hand. He looked up from his bowed head. He recognized the interrogating tone in her voice, the set in her jaw, and the determination reflected in her eyes. It was then he realized what Sara was planning to do with this ring. She was going to bargain or rather trade his ring for information.  
  
"No"  
  
Ian honestly didn't think Irons had given him the ring. The origin of the ring was quite mysterious. He had read and researched through countless of books. Never finding any knowledge of its existence. Ian couldn't have been no older then eleven when he had asked Irons about it. At that age he had assumed Irons' vast knowledge extended to everything. Unfortunately Ian was wrong. Irons simply cast aside Ian's curiosity of his ring. Explaining to him how it was an unimportant object that he let Ian keep because he had been so fond of it since he was a child. Though a bit disappointed that he was nowhere near as to finding any information about it. But it was the one item he felt that truly belonged to him and only him.  
  
  
  
"Really?! Then I can safely assume this 'ring'." Sara empathized by drawing out the word.  
  
".Is very important to you. So important that we could let say make a trade?" With his head down Sara didn't see the small grin cross his face. Sara could be so predictable at times' Ian thought.  
  
"A trade? For information I assume?"  
  
"You got it, pal" Ian contemplated over the turn of events. It was quite funny now that he thought about it. She held his ring hostage in return for information. Well she had wanted to question him earlier but either refused to ask while they were trapped or simply forgot. And he had to admit he was quite curious as to what she wanted to know.  
  
"Before I agree what are the conditions?"  
  
"You give me straight answers, none of these vague mambo jumbo crap. When I'm satisfied I give you the ring."  
  
It seemed fair enough Sara thought. For months now she had to put up with bullshit riddles from Nottingham, Irons, and even her dead partner. May be this time she could get some real answers.  
  
"What would you like to know?" He asked.  
  
Sara raised her eyebrows. There was no doubt Nottingham could take the ring from her by force, not that he would, but instead he was doing this her way. She just never thought it would have been this easy. First it was Danny now Nottingham. 'Well don't stare a gift horse in the mouth, Pez. Here's the chance you've been waiting for.' The little voice in the back of her mind yelled at her. Here was an opportunity she had been waiting for since she got the Witchblade. Sara was not about to pass it up. 'But where do I start?' She wondered.  
  
Her mind reeled back to her conversation with Irons earlier that afternoon. News about how Ian had provided the money for John. How the vision showed Sara he had been the one to return the blade to her. But just how much was she willing to share in that knowledge? Just how far exactly? She decided only to indulge in parts of what she had seen and keep the rest to herself. She would use her knowledge as a guideline of some sort. Sara offered him to sit on the couch with her but he had refused and continued to stand in his little area by the window. 'Fine, stand there all night. See if I care!' The anger was evident in Sara's movements as she marched back to the couch. She didn't understand why she was upset but she was. Maybe deep down she was hoping he would join her and actually have a normal conversation for once. Sitting back down on the couch, her back against the armrest, legs drawn to her chest, and the ring cradled in the palm of her left hand.  
  
"The night of the Irish massacre." She paused for a moment the memory still a bit painful. ".. Irons told me that it was you who provided the ransom for John."  
  
It would have been so easy to just let Conchobar die. No longer a part of Sara's life. Yet, he had witnessed the happiness and love the reincarnated king of Ulster provided in his Lady's life. He heard the pain in her voice as she begged Irons for the money. How she would have given herself up to Irons for the Irishman. It had been a painful decision to make. Ian's love for Sara was too great to let jealousy cloud his judgment.  
  
"Why did you do it? Why did you help me that night?" She stared at him.  
  
.I love you.in unguarded moments.  
  
'You already know, Sara' Ian wanted to say but stopped himself. That was the reason why but he remembered the look of disdain mirrored on her face that night. She hadn't even replied back. Not a word towards his profession of love. Nothing. He closed his eyes and wearily treaded on how to explain his actions to a point where it was satisfactory for Sara. It was then he had spoken.  
  
"Because you needed the money and there was no one left to help you." Her mouth began to move but her words couldn't pass the lump in her throat. It was true, with Danny gone; there was no one she could have trusted. Dante was out of the question and she was still unsure about Jake. Even though he had offered to help. Then she had turned to the one person she despised the most. But it didn't matter because Irons too refused to help. In the end it took the one person she had disregarded since the beginning to come through for her.  
  
"Thank you, Nottingham" It was barely a whisper and Ian had to strain to hear her. His heart felt lighter then ever before. It was a ghost of a smile as the corners of his mouth slightly rose. Sara thought of the next question as she rolled the ring between her fingers.  
  
"Explain to me how this got back on my arm?" She pointed to the blade by lifting up her arm.  
  
Could she have known that it was Ian who had returned the blade to her? It had been easy lying to Irons about it. Yet was he capable of lying to Sara too? He had to choose his words wisely in turn not to reveal what really had happened.  
  
"Well why did you do it?" She asked impatiently.  
  
"How can you be so sure I had been responsible for the return of the blade?"  
  
"It doesn't take a genius to figure out it was you, Nottingham. You were the last man standing. Jake sure as hell doesn't know about this. So everything points to you." Though she had been shown he had indeed been the one to return the blade to her. She was wanted to know why. Sara knew better then to expect a full pledge confession from him.  
  
"Why would the blade return to me when I had obviously abandon it. I gave it to that Fiona woman for John? In the end it didn't matter much. It was used to kill him." Ian had to answer the question carefully if he didn't want to reveal too much.  
  
"I can not speak for the Witchblade, Sara. It is unclear what the blade wants at times and only the wielder can truly know the answers."  
  
He seen Sara opens her mouth then shut it without saying a word. Ian had to stifle a laugh at the patented raised eyebrow look. He was still well into their agreement. Ian certainly had no way of knowing what the blade thinks or wants.  
  
"Alright smart ass, why do YOU think the blade returned to me?"  
  
"Why does it matter now, Sara? The blade has made a decision and it has returned to its rightful owner. You should stop trying to find out why. You should just accept it and start believing in the Witchblade. It chose you for a reason."  
  
"Then why don't you tell me what they are, Nottingham." Did she not really see her attributes? Irons had asked him the same question the night after the blade had chosen Sara Pezzini.  
  
"Your courage, strength, willfulness. Your spirit and the insatiable desire for justice." She lowered her head as she listened to him. Could Nottingham be right? We're these qualities the reason the blade was drawn to her? Or could it be what had drawn Nottingham to Sara?  
  
"And your concealed vulnerability."  
  
Sara's head snapped up, her eyes narrowed on Nottingham.  
  
"Excuse me? What do you mean concealed vulnerability? What the hell does that supposed to mean?"  
  
Ian realized he had threaded over a sensitive subject. He knew Sara was too proud to admit to some of her weakness. The woman was too stubborn at times. Especially when it came to him. Never accepting his help or acknowledging the bond they share. Ian took a deep breath but didn't utter a word.  
  
"Listen the only vulnerable person in this room is you, Nottingham!" Ian cringed at Sara's abrasive retort but she didn't stop there. Their conversation made a drastic turn for the worst.  
  
"I'm not the one doing daddy's dirty work. I'm not the lapdog that jumps when 'my master' orders it."  
  
"You can not possibly understand, Sara." Ian said through gritted teeth. He had lowered his head and clasped his arms behind his back. Ian's anger was slowly rising.  
  
."Why aren't you with her?" Irons voice was hoarse and weak. He was sprawled on the office floor the day of the periculum. Irons experiencing the pain that Sara was going through. Ian had returned shortly after Irons had sent him to watch over her.  
  
"There's nothing I can do for her." It was true Sara didn't need him.  
  
"You can protect her from others with malintent." Irons voice was nothing but a whisper.  
  
"She's already got a guardian angel." Ian replied a bit distraught and irritated like a little boy. Recalling the image of Sara's dead partner reflecting on the fire escape window.  
  
"You never used to second-guess my judgments. You were the perfect scalpel. Sharp, precise, directable." Irons added.  
  
"I am nothing but what you made me! Now I have the capacity to evolve. It's only because you gave it to me." Ian exclaimed as he stood there. His attention was transfixed on Irons. His eyes and voice laced with hatred.  
  
"Hollow words, Ian." Irons raised his right hand into the air, his fingers curled. He began to lower his hand. As if he was pushing down on an imaginary object. On the far side of the office Ian struggled to stand upright. An invisible force was pushing him down on his knees. He could feel his head being pushed down as well. Ian knew there was no use in fighting the power Irons had over him. In the end his body succumbed to Irons' will. It was a strange control Ian never understood. .  
  
"Oh I understand a lot more then you think, Nottingham." Sara had gotten up from the couch walked around to stand in front of him. She leaned against the couch, her arms crossed. This time Ian lifted his head until his eyes were locked with hers.  
  
"How could you understand when you still refuse to listen to the Witchblade? Refuse to acknowledge what the blade shows you about me, about us."  
  
"Us? There is no 'us', Nottingham! When are you going to get that through your thick head of yours? There never has been and never will be an 'us'!" Sara's brows furrowed, the anger blazing in her eyes.  
  
"There was only one man that filled that part of my life but now he's gone. Gone because some bitch decided to stab him through the chest with this." Sara held up her right arm. The stone swirled angrily on her wrist. Before he could stop himself the words were already uttered. "Your Irish bard would have betrayed you in then end." Sara pushed herself off of the couch and stood in front of Nottingham. Her arms against her side, her fingers balled into fists. Ian knew he was walking a thin line. He knew he should just take his ring, leave, and let her cool off. But it was as if the pent up anger he had was now coming out and taking control of his body. His inhibitions disappeared. Ian didn't care any more. May be he had already given up and this was just a way to release his hopes.  
  
"You're a bastard Nottingham. You're just jealous because he was the kind of man you never could be. And you're angry because I wouldn't have you like I wouldn't have your master."  
  
.Don't compare me to Irons.  
  
His body began to tremble as he listened to Sara's heartless words. His vision soon blurred and he quickly lowered his head. He had never felt so empty and despondent. Not even Irons were able to make him feel this way. He swallowed the lump in his throat.  
  
'Perhaps she's right. There will never be an 'us'.' Ian thought disheartened  
  
"By the way did you get a good eyeful when Irons sent you to watch us?" Sara was still angry and her tirade continued.  
  
"I don't know what you are talking about." Ian's voice was void of any emotion as he spoke.  
  
"I know Irons sent you to watch over John and me while we were together."  
  
"If you are implying that I stood at your fire escape and watched while you two consummated your. love for each other. Then you are mistaken."  
  
It was true Ian never observed the two together in bed. Sara did deserve her privacy and the fact that it was just too painful for Ian to watch. Wasn't it bad enough he could feel her with him. To feel every pleasing touch, and hear every endearment. To know and feel that it wasn't him above her bringing her to the heights of passion. Encircled in each other's arms as they fall together from sexual bliss.  
  
That first time Ian had stayed back at the church. He stood alone in the cold night air. While being consumed by sensations that were both incredibly satisfying and terrifyingly painful. Terrifying because the feeling was so foreign to him. Until finally, as it ended, he soon realized what had transpired between the two. Too overwhelmed he stayed at that church for hours until Sara had arrived to face that imposter, Del Torro.  
  
"I don't believe you." Sara's voice broke through his thoughts.  
  
"I would never intrude on such privacy, Sara." He exclaimed.  
  
"Never stopped you before."  
  
"Then you would just have to take my word for it and trust me."  
  
"Me trust you?" Sara snorted at the idea.  
  
"I am the one person you can trust, Sara."  
  
"Trust you? How can I trust a man you can't even protect himself against his master."  
  
Ian looked up from his bowed head. Confusion was written all over his face.  
  
"Do you want to know what the blade was showing me while were stuck in that elevator?"  
  
Ian remained silent.  
  
"You getting your ass beat by Irons. And not once did you make an attempt to defend yourself. You stood there and willing accepted it." Sara, already standing so close to Ian, placed her hand under his chin. She lifted his face, turning it until she could see the dark bruise on his face. She let got of his chin and with the same hand gently traced the bruise with her fingers. His eyes never left her face. He could see pity and anger in those green eyes.  
  
"What makes you think I can trust you? How do I know that if a situation ever arose between Irons and me you won't choose his side? That you won't abandon me. I'm not going to take that chance."  
  
.. Just ask, Sara. We can be inseparable..  
  
"Sara." She laid a finger on his lips and stopped him from saying anything else.  
  
"No, Nottingham. I can't trust you. I won't." Sara took the ring and handed it back to him. She stepped back to lean against the couch.  
  
"Sara." She bowed her head and cut him off.  
  
"Just leave Nottingham"  
  
Ian made his way to the flight of stairs leading down to the apartment door. He placed the ring on the banister while he donned his wet coat and watch cap. He picked up the ring and looked at it. He had never been apart from it up until now and Ian always felt that the ring itself was a part of him. He glanced back at Sara. She hadn't move from her spot her back was facing him. All he had hoped for gone. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Ian wanted to leave a part of himself behind. So he placed the ring back on the banister.  
  
"Good-bye, Det. Pezzini." His voice filled with sadness. Silently Ian made his way down the stairs and out the door.  
  
~*~ 


	24. Chapter twenty four

~*~  
  
".And was your predecessor still in the wielder's apartment before you left?" Irons tore his gaze away from the roaring fire. A sense of déjà vu washed over Irons as he stared at his new servant. Nottingham stood in the middle of the den, drenched from the storm, arms clasped behind his back. Much like how Ian had the same hours ago. But the only difference between the two, besides the obvious, was the way this one held his head high. His eyes never dropped from submission like Ian. An element of defiance flashed behind Nottingham's dark stare but was soon gone within the blink of an eye.  
  
Irons took a sip from the goblet he held in his hand. He looked over the rim of the glass as the amber liquid ran smoothly down his throat. He continued to drink until there was nothing left all except the rich taste lingering on his tongue. Irons waited for Nottingham to answer.  
  
"Yes master. From what I had been able to observe 'he' was still chatting with Det. Pezzini." If Irons stood closer to Nottingham he would have seen the spark of amusement running through his eyes. It appeared he had chosen his words well. He was very pleased to see the displeasure in Irons face as he spoke of Ian's visit with the wielder. May be now his master would order him to take care of his predecessor.  
  
In one hand Irons held the empty goblet, while in the other he held his pocket watch. The gold flap left open to expose the face of the timepiece. He absently watched the seconds tic away. It had been an hour now since his servant returned home with news of Ian's brash defiance. An hour in which Irons had hoped Ian enjoyed. Remembering a time Ian had not followed his orders, as he should have. Irons should have noted his servant's growing independence.  
  
. "How much did she learn?" Ian had returned for the church after Sara's spiritual encounter with Father DelToro. Irons' holding Father Bellamy's missing journals.  
  
"It's impossible to tell. She was conversing with other realms." Ian had informed Irons of Sara's success at the church.  
  
"You should have stopped it."  
  
"Perhaps..." Ian raised his head as he spoke. ".Or perhaps such an intervention will prove to be more valuable later on."  
  
Irons stared at Ian, a bit shocked. He took his hand, raised it and began to force Ian's head down. His hand shook from Ian's surprising resistance but was soon satisfied when finally Ian relinquished his will.  
  
"Up until now, I've done quite well trusting you to your own initiative. But I can see that I will start having to be more explicit in my directions".  
  
'Perhaps I have not been as explicit as I had wanted.' Replacing the watch back into his pocket Irons stared into the blazing hearth. And violently tossed the empty glass into the fire. The glass shattering into bits of pieces as it lands in the fireplace. Nottingham grinned at his master's obvious anger. Irons walked over to his throne like chair and sat down, legs crossed at the knees. Irons tapped a finger against his pursed lips as icy cerulean eyes stared at the man before him.  
  
"Get yourself into dried clothes, then go to the kitchen and have something to eat. When you are done return to me and I shall have a task for you. Now go!" With a dismissive wave of his hand, Nottingham left the room. Leaving Irons to develop a plan for both Sara and especially Ian. After summoning Dr. Immo, Irons took great care in devising a proper punishment for Ian. Or was it a rather permanent solution.  
  
~*~  
  
With his eyes shut, Ian leaned back against the closed door. The tears he held inside were now flowing freely down his face until it disappeared into the thickness of his dark beard. It was until there were no tears left to shed did Ian open his eyes. He stared absently out into the empty hall. He reached into his pocket, took out his cell phone, and dialed a number. A woman's voice answered on the second ring.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Its me" Ian's voice was hoarse, laced with left over emotions from his encounter with Sara. He cleared his throat and waited for an answer.  
  
"I'm on the next plane out. I'll be there in a few hours."  
  
"Then you know what to do?" Ian asked.  
  
"Yes Ian I do." There was a small pause and before they ended their conversation the woman added a warning of caution for Ian. "And Ian do be careful."  
  
His response to her warning was the sound of a dial tone from his cell. Ian slid down the door and unto the floor. Arms resting on his raised knees, head resting back on the door. He had hoped that whatever the blade had shown Sara while in that elevator would help her see him. Not some freak or a psycho Galahad as she had put it. However he had been wrong and their somewhat odd association with each other had turned for the worst. She couldn't trust him and she wouldn't give into what the blade was showing her. If the blade was unable to open her eyes then there was nothing Ian could do. It was then Ian decided to simply accept what has become of their insignificant relationship. He was still unsure of what Irons planned for Sara and he swore not only to himself but to her as well. He will protect her or die trying. Then maybe in death he will actually find some peace from the pain he feels now.  
  
With a final acceptance of his decision Ian pushed himself off the ground and down the darkened stairway. It was still raining but not as heavy as it had been earlier. He stood on the stoop of Sara's building. Looking up one last time at her fire escape. He hiked up the collar of his coat, and wrapped his arms around himself before stepping out into the cold night rain. He made no rush for his car that was parked a few blocks down. 'Why rush the inevitable.' He thought, as he slowed his stride, not caring that he was getting soaked from the rain. For some reason Ian knew deep down that Irons would have found out about his visit with Sara. How? It didn't matter. Like how things just didn't matter now, after his conversation with Sara, he felt nothing inside. Nothing at all.  
  
~*~  
  
Danny watched from Sara's fire escape window. Unhappily watching as Sara's shadow unenthusiastically made his way back to his car. Danny could see the remiss in Ian's attitude. How he stood out in the open not bothering to blend in with the darkness as to not be seen. The slump of his shoulders, his bowed head, and his slow ungraceful movements where just some of the key elements in Ian's current mood. Danny had been here watching the conversation happening between the two. He had also known of the mysterious stranger perched on the fire escape listening in. But the shadow didn't stay long to hear the rest of Sara and Ian's conversation. Just enough to be satisfied, and then headed back to Irons.  
  
Danny loved Sara every much. They had been partners for years and he understood her mood swings, understood what made her tick. What he couldn't understand was what had happen. He never thought the Sara he knew could have been so cold. In the beginning Danny had thought they were starting off on the right foot. He had been wrong.  
  
For a ghost it wasn't that hard to be 'unseen' so Danny stood aloof from their conversation. He leaned against the wall next to the stairs that led somewhere up in her loft while they situated themselves in the living room area. He had wanted to give them some space, some privacy. Danny just felt that they were about to share something that was sacred between them. Maybe a new beginning? Turned out it wouldn't happen seeing Sara's infamous rage rear its ugly head. He had even cringed from her harsh words.  
  
He had been sticking around and watching Sara since she arrived home. He knew Sara had been worried about Ian. Disappointed even when he wasn't around. How thrilled she really was inside after he had finally shown up. Yet in the end Danny had been dumbfounded with her reaction to Ian. He was afraid that it was going to take something very drastic before she opened her eyes to Ian. By then it would be too late for both Ian and Sara. But the powers that be wouldn't let Danny interfere. It had to be worked out by the two. Though it didn't mean he couldn't give a little helpful shove here and there.  
  
He watched Sara half lean on her couch. She hadn't moved from that same spot since Ian had left. Her head was bowed so he couldn't see her face. Danny couldn't possibly know what was going through her mind right now. He could only hope she was contemplating what had happened and quickly realize that it was a mistake. Danny gave Sara a few minutes before he would 'appear' before her. If he had been close he would have seen the single tear that landed on the Witchblade.  
  
~*~  
  
Sara wasn't sure how long she stood frozen on the spot. But it had felt like hours had passed instead of the few minutes since Nottingham had left the loft. She knew that this time he left through the door instead of his favorite window. It was only because she heard the soft click of the door closing behind him. The sound had echoed louder then thunder from the storm. It was only then did it hit her of the finiteness of whatever they had between them ended when that door closed.  
  
Sara stubbornly told herself that what had happened earlier was for the best. Not just for her but for him as well. She couldn't help but remember the punishments he endured from the hands of Irons. He suffered because of her. She couldn't push the memory of the bruises and amounts of blood spilt. Or the pain she had seen in those soft hazel eyes.  
  
Sara found herself standing in front of her door. Her left hand on the knob while the other was lay flat against the door. She didn't know how or when she had made the small trek down the stairs. All she wondered was if he was still behind the door. Or was the hallway empty as always. Her grip on the handle tightens but she doesn't turn to open it. Without thinking she looks through the peephole and finds nothing but a dark empty hallway. She leans her forehead against the door and sighs. She lets go of the doorknob and instead turns to lock the deadbolt. Sara pushes herself from the door and turned to walk back up the stairs. At the top of the stairs Sara stops when she spots Danny staring out the window.  
  
At first he didn't bother to turn to look at her. Whatever it was outside had caught his attention. Sara walked over to Danny and returned to her spot near the couch. Her arms crossed at her chest as she waited for him to speak.  
  
"Look Danny as much as I love seeing you this isn't exactly the best time. So if you don't mind partner I'd rather be alone tonight." She waited for a response. She threw up her hands when he didn't speak. So she made her way around the loft extinguishing some of the candles she had lit. She had expected her ghostly guide to be gone by now. But he still stood by the window. Danny's attention was now on Sara as she moved about in her apartment.  
  
"What?" Sara finally asked.  
  
"The three hardest task in the world is neither physical feats nor intellectual achievements; but moral acts: to return love for hate, to include the excluded, and to say 'I was wrong'."  
  
"What the hell is that suppose to mean? I don't need this shit right now Danny. I had a horrible day and night. All I want to do is just bury and forget everything and go to bed." But that was the problem. She couldn't 'just forget' she couldn't just 'bury' everything that had happened. The visions and Ian kept replying in her mind. She wasn't sure if it was her or the blade that wouldn't let the issues rest.  
  
"Its pretty obvious, Sara."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Nottingham"  
  
"Nottingham? Ian Nottingham??" Sara questioned.  
  
"Do you know any other Nottingham's in New York City?" Danny didn't bother hiding his amused smirk. 'Smartass' Sara thought as she raised her eyebrow at him.  
  
"Wrong about what?"  
  
"Look Sara don't you think it was bit harsh what you told Nottingham?"  
  
"You were listening? I can't believe you Danny!"  
  
"I can't believe you, partner. I never had seen you act so bitter and cold before. I know you have your moment but I mean talk about being a bitch, Sara." Her mouth gaped open as she narrowed her eyes on him.  
  
"You know if you weren't already dead I'd kick your ass." Danny could sense no humor in her threat. No doubt she would have if he were still alive.  
  
"He didn't deserve that verbal lashing from you and you know it."  
  
"Yeah well at least my bark isn't as painful as Irons' bite."  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Danny remembered keeping his eyes on Ian and he could see the man was truly heartbroken. The anguish in his eyes was far worst then what he had witnessed first hand. Such pain brought by Sara's cruel words.  
  
"You wouldn't understand, Danny." Sara leaned back against the armrest of the couch, crossed her arms over her chest, and her head bowed.  
  
"The one who listens is the one who understands" Danny crossed his arms, imitating Sara.  
  
"You are such a fortune cookie, Woo." He smiled at her light banter.  
  
"Hey I gotta make life interesting don't I. So you say I wouldn't understand? Try me I'm listening." Sara soon accepted that he wasn't going to leave her alone until she told him why she had been so mean to.Ian.  
  
~*~ 


	25. Chapter twenty five

~*~  
  
Oblivious to the cold rain pelting down all around Ian stood absently next to his car, keys loosely hanging from his fingertips. Letting the rainwater seep into his already drenched coat. Ian made no attempt to seek shelter from the rain in the inside of his car. He made no move at all. If it wasn't for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed he could have been mistaken for a statue.  
  
Drops of rain pounded against the roof of his car. Bursting into tiny little bullets of water splaying towards Ian's face. He closed his eyes against the rain only to be bestowed with the sounds of Sara's bittersweet voice. The echoes of her voice and the severity of their earlier encounter activated a mental chain reaction of memories. His train of thought focused on past cruelties.  
  
Ian opened his eyes only because he no longer felt the pouring rain beating down on him. He looked up to see a large black umbrella hovering above him. He turned around to see an old man holding the handle. His stringy blonde hair plastered against his weathered face. The man's dark protruding gaze held his.  
  
Ian recognized the man, seeing him from time to time, as the watcher. Ian had heard very little about Lazar from Irons. Ian's own research found nothing of the man's existence yet he stood before him holding an umbrella. The man was a complete enigma. But how he had gotten so close without Ian knowing was a bit unnerving for the dark assassin. 'The rain must have drowned out the sounds of his footsteps.' Ian thought.  
  
"Or you have lost your focus and were so rapt in your thoughts you simply did not register my presence." Ian's eyes widen. This had been the first time the watcher had approached him and spoke. 'But could the man read minds too?' he thought.  
  
"Yes and no." Lazar replied in a thick ancient accent that Ian could not place.  
  
"How do you mean?" Ian questioned calmly hoping to hide the uneasiness he felt.  
  
"Like I have said you're unfocused. The walls that are usually surrounding your mind, when you are on guard, are gone. I may not know exactly what you are thinking but I can sense what you are feeling. Like now for example you feel anxious. You are still wondering how I was able to sneak up behind you without detection? "Oh, is that all?" Ian replied sarcastically. Being exposed to Sara during what little time he had with her was slowly rubbing off on Ian. Lazar gave a lopsided smile.  
  
"And those as well. The windows to a person's soul." Lazar pointed at Ian's eyes. "Those betray you; for they hide nothing from the world. You are like an open book." Ian began to lower his head averting his gaze from Lazar's.  
  
"Do not withdraw away from me. Look at me, Ian Nottingham." Ian wasn't too surprise that Lazar knew his name. Who knows how long Lazar had been watching over him. Ian was reluctant to comply. It wasn't an order like Irons but an undemanding request. Ian finally looked up and locked his gaze with Lazar.  
  
"If I am an open book; then what does my tale reveal, Lazar?" The older man nodded his head and grinned as Ian addressed him.  
  
"I sense pain and suffering. Someone once said: 'Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.' Why are you suffering, young Nottingham?"  
  
Ian didn't answer Lazar. He only looked towards the direction of Sara's apartment. The light from the candles faintly glowed in the distance.  
  
"You should not give up on life so easily, Ian."  
  
"What would a vagrant know about the meaning of life?" Ian threw back bitterly.  
  
"Hold your tongue, Ian Nottingham." Lazar's voice was calmed yet forceful. Ian had heard Lazar to be a passive and unperturbed man. But there was no mistaking the flash of anger in his eyes.  
  
"I apologize, Lazar. I know not what I say. I am simply acting on my disheartened impulses."  
  
His eyes no longer flashed with anger and Lazar's weathered face softened. " I understand, Ian."  
  
"There is only one meaning of life: The act of living itself."  
  
Ian stared at Lazar with mournful eyes. He returned his gaze back towards Sara's apartment.  
  
"I have nothing left. What is there to live for?"  
  
"You have a cause, a destiny." Lazar answered.  
  
'Take the cause out of a man; there is no cause for a man.' Ian thought.  
  
"I have no cause nor destiny, Lazar."  
  
"Your cause is to protect the wielder of the Witchblade. It has been your destiny since the day you were born."  
  
"How can I protect her, Lazar? She despises me! She will never let me into her life! It is best if I comply with her wishes and." Ian sighed. ".never return." Lowering his head as he spoke.  
  
'Stubborn fools' Lazar muttered under his breath then a light chuckle escaped his throat.  
  
Ian's looked up from his bowed head. Lazar was smiling and shaking his shaggy blonde head. Ian's brows furrowed as he tilted his head slightly to the side, confusion reflected in his eyes. And bit irritated that this man found his current 'situation' amusing. "Why do you mock my pain, Lazar?"  
  
Lazar cleared his throat and answered. "I do no such thing, Ian."  
  
"Then what do you find so amusing?" Lazar sighed.  
  
"I have forgotten how strongly stubborn both you and the wielder really are."  
  
"She is the one who is stubborn. She is the one who refuses to listen to the blade, to reason. Refuses to trust me." Ian complained like a little child.  
  
"You have not given her any evidence to trust you, Ian."  
  
"Are you saying I am untrustworthy of Sara?" Ian's eyes widen with uncertainty.  
  
"No, that is not what I am saying my dear boy. Far from it actually, I am merely saying is your Lady Sara does not realize the things you have done for her. And if she does she assumes it's some sort of ploy created by Kenneth Irons to gain control over her. So you must help her understand. You must be patient with the wielder."  
  
"I've been patient my entire life." Ian exclaimed.  
  
"Then you've had practice, good." Lazar grinned. Ian however did not share in Lazar's humor.  
  
"But my patients grows thin and I don't feel that I can wait any longer."  
  
"Ian, are you so willing to leave your Lady's Sara's side? To leave her vulnerable against the evil elements that is after the Witchblade? Are you willing to break the vow you've made lifetimes ago to serve the wielder? Do you want your Lady to meet her untimely demise, alone?" Lazar questioned.  
  
Ian pictured each scenario becoming more and more afraid for Sara's life. He couldn't bear the thought of her death. "No!" he strongly replied.  
  
"Then do not be so willing to give up on yours. Sara needs you as you need her. Do not repeat past mistakes."  
  
"What do you mean 'past mistakes'." Ian looked at Lazar, confused.  
  
"The Witchblade bestowed upon you a gift. To remember past lives and to learn from them, Ian." Lazar explained. Ian nodded but another subject arose.  
  
"What about Kenneth Irons? I do not know how to explain it but he has this hold over me that I cannot understand let alone break. I'm afraid if I don't break away I'll only be jeopardizing Sara's safety." Hearing Ian's desire to break free was a good sign. Maybe Lazar had been mistaken. Ian wasn't as stubborn as he thought. Just very determined.  
  
"It is possible to break free from Irons."  
  
"How?" Ian pleading with hope that Lazar held the key to his chains.  
  
"You are much stronger then you believe." Ian shook his head no.  
  
"Yes young Nottingham. It took a great amount of strength both mind and will to place the blade back on Sara's wrist. At that moment the chains that held you to him began to weaken.  
  
"But how can I break a lifetime with Kenneth Irons? He is my master." Ian spoke dejectedly.  
  
"Do not confuse gratefulness with loyalty. For you had a mistress far before you had a master. Your connection with the wielder far exceeds your .bond with Kenneth Irons. He knew about this and tried to conceal this from you by using unethical means." Lazar's face grew somber making him look much more older and ancient. He knew the 'means' Irons had used on Ian; he had witnessed many of them. Ian suffered greatly but yet he stands before Lazar and for once a golden glint of hope flickered in the depths of Ian's hazel eyes.  
  
"When in doubt look inside yourself. Here." Lazar laid a finger against Ian' chest, above his heart. Then his forehead ".and here as well."  
  
Lazar lowered the umbrella. Reveling that the night sky had cleared. The storm obviously had stopped sometime during their conversation. Ian raised his face up to see the mass of brightly lit stars twinkling and the glowing moon above. When he looked back down Lazar was gone.  
  
Ian moved from his spot and turned to his car. He unlocked the door, slipped behind the wheel and revved up the engine. At that moment the power had been restored. No longer trapped in darkness as street lamps around engulfed Ian in light.  
  
Before steering out onto the empty street Ian glanced in the rearview mirror towards Sara's building. And for the first time since he left her apartment Ian smiled. Deep in the shadows Lazar followed in suit. Flashing his own lopsided smile as he watched Ian drive away.  
  
~*~  
  
Sara didn't know where to start. Maybe she did but just couldn't bring herself to admit that she really cared for her stalker. It had been so hard to let anyone in her life. What was the point really? In the end she would lose them to death. 'Life was cruel' Sara thought. First she's given time to care; to love then without warning everything is drastically taken from her, leaving her alone once again. First her father was taken away while she was still young. Then while the harsh life of reality moved on Maria was taken too. And not weeks after her death her partner, Danny, was killed before her eyes.  
  
'Oh God, why does this keep happening to me' She thought. With her father and Maria there was nothing really she could have done; she wasn't there. But with Danny she was. She stood helpless as his life drained before her eyes. How she pleaded for him to hold on and how his last words were to tell his wife he was sorry.  
  
Sara looked up to stare at Danny. Tears threatening to fall from her eyes. This wasn't exactly how she wanted him to be in her life. Not some ghostly guide standing in her living room. She wanted him alive, living, breathing, being his wise ass self (though even in death that didn't change much). If there had been a way to save him that day she would have. Sara would have done anything. Much how she had tried with John during his kidnapping. Her heart constricted at the thought of her lover's cold body on the floor of that warehouse. She had done everything she could to save him too. But in the end both were killed and in both times she was helpless to just watch them die.  
  
'Not this time.' She thought. 'Ian Nottingham isn't going to die because of me.'  
  
Perhaps the feelings she held inside, the affections she warden off, had seeped through the tiny cracks in the wall that surrounded her heart. If there were a way to protect Ian Nottingham then she would gladly take it. Unlike Danny or John there was something she could do to save him from death. She had an advantage this time and she was going to take it. If it meant she had to accomplish the task with pain and heartache then so be it. Believe it or not, Ian Nottingham wasn't the only person hurting.  
  
Danny, with his hands hidden deep inside the pockets of his coat, leaned back against the wall. Patiently waiting for Sara to explain her reasons why. He had about given up when Sara hadn't uttered a word for who knows how long. Until finally her voice broke through the silence in the loft.  
  
"Remember the accident at the Midtown Museum? You asking me if I had seen anyone else there before the explosion?" Danny nodded his head.  
  
"Well it was Nottingham but I'm sure you know that now." Sara paused but made no motion that she was going to stop. "I was admiring the Witchblade when he had sneaked up behind me. I caught his reflection on the glass casing and on instinct I whirled around and pointed my gun at him." Sara could actually smile about it now.  
  
"Talk about first impressions, huh. Danny the man didn't even flinch or made an attempt to move away. He just stood there, with a gun in his face, flashed this smile, mumbled something, and left. Just like that; like it was nothing."  
  
"The second time we meet he was this cocky bastard who, appeared out of nowhere, had the audacity to come up to me in a dark alley sprouting one of many cryptic bullshit which I've learned is part of his charming traits. Over the course of time he would pop out of shadows, drop a riddle or two, then disappear the same way he had when he showed up."  
  
"You mean like me, but I'm more cool in my entrances and exits, right?" Danny smirked.  
  
"No offense Danny but you're dead. You have an excuse."  
  
"None taken but I still think I'm cooler though." Sara shook her head and grinned.  
  
"But Notti.Ian doesn't. He was trained to be the way he is. Here's this bad ass assassin who could catch bullets with his hands, leap off building rooftops only to land gracefully like some oversized feline, and become invisible whenever he wanted too. I had always thought Ian Nottingham was invincible. That nothing could harm him let alone touch him. That is until tonight. What I saw in my visions while stuck in that elevator will haunt me probably for the rest of my life. Every time I see him I would wonder is he hurt? If he is, am I the reason why he's battered or bruised? I don't want to wonder or think about it. My life is hectic enough with the blade."  
  
"But I thought you hated Ian?"  
  
"I thought I did too. Besides the obvious fact that he's associated with Irons I don't think I ever hated him personally."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"Danny you know me. I like being in control. Besides this." Sara holds up her arm to show off the dormant bracelet. "Ian Nottingham is a constant reminder that I don't have any control."  
  
. "Don't worry you had none to being with.".  
  
"Every time he would show up out of nowhere I just felt like he was taking what little control I had left over my life. And I was angry at myself for losing it and more angry at him for taking it."  
  
"So what changed your mind about him?"  
  
"This." Sara tapped at the bracelet. ".opened up my eyes."  
  
Danny smiled. 'Wished it had opened up your heart too. Or maybe it did and you're till fighting it.' He thought but instead said.  
  
"Sara I don't think you should shut Ian out, not now. He needs you as much you need him." Danny pleaded.  
  
"Its best for the both of us. He doesn't need me and I don't need him." Even after the words left her lips Sara still held doubts but she wasn't about to tell Danny that.  
  
"Are you sure it's the right thing to do?" He asked.  
  
"Danny, I didn't have the chance to save you or John. And if I did you know damn well I'd do whatever it took to keep you two safe. I have that chance now for Ian. I'm not going to past that up." She lowered her head. There it was finally said. She was being a bitch to Ian because she wanted to protect him from Irons and maybe even from her.  
  
Sara squinted her eyes against the lights. The power was finally back on. She wondered around the loft extinguishing the candles she had lit. As she walked around the apartment Danny had moved from the wall near the fire escape window over to the top of the stairs that lead down to her front door.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
She walked over to him and crossed her arms. "You wanted an explanation and I gave it to you. What else do you want me to say?"  
  
"You never answered my question, Sara." Danny's voice sounded serious and held no hint of amusement.  
  
"Which is?" She raised her eyebrows, a flash of irritation in her eyes.  
  
"Are you sure pushing Ian away, shutting him out was the right thing to do?"  
  
Sara lowered her head. Was it right? She weighed her answer. Her mind said yes but her heart was saying something else. Sara was too tired to think, all she had wanted to do was get some sleep. She didn't want to talk any more. Her eyes began to wonder until she caught sight of a silver ring left on the banister. She picked it up and immediately knew it was Ian's ring. She eyed it between her fingers. Instead of answering Danny's question Sara avoided it all together. She just wasn't sure.  
  
"Ian forgot his ring again."  
  
Danny wasn't upset that she didn't answer. Actually he was hoping she didn't. It was one of the many shoves he was planning on. At least this way it got her to start thinking more.  
  
'Just wished she would hurry up and past that stubborn streak of hers.' He thought.  
  
Danny also knew for a fact Ian didn't forget his ring. "No, he didn't forget it. He left it on purpose this time. Probably wanted to leave a little something of himself behind."  
  
"Why?" Sara looked up but Danny was already gone. She sighed and made her way around the loft turning off the lights and headed for bed. After slipping under the covers Sara stared at the ring she placed on the nightstand. 'Why would Ian leave behind something that was so important to him?' A dreaded feeling washed over Sara as she lies there in bed. She quickly pushed the feeling aside and closed her eyes.  
  
~*~ 


	26. Chapter twenty six

~*~  
  
Ian still sat in his car long after arriving at the mansion. Lazar's words were unrelenting as it ran through his mind. Could he really break free from Irons? Would Sara ever accept him as her protector if nothing more? Could it all truly be possible? The significance of his words held hope. Something Ian had longed for as far as he could remember. Especially after those first few beatings or 'lessons' as Irons would say. He had wished and dreamed of another life outside of the one he had now. As the years went on, along with the punishments, his hope diminish to a tiny speck of light hidden deep in the depths of his darken and tormented soul. Obscured behind the layers of self-doubting, repulsion, and insecurity. Imbedded over the years thanks to Irons constant reminder that he could never be a normal man.  
  
It was until the moment he had seen her that the light started to grow. The rays of hope breaching beyond the barrier not only through his soul but also through his entire being, his entire way of living. For once making him doubt his liege to Irons. Going up against years of training and teachings. Remembering how he had gone against Irons orders and instead learned to listen to his instincts, to his heart.  
  
.. When in doubt look inside yourself.  
  
Lazar told Ian to look inside his mind and heart. The image of Sara's face flashed the moment he closed his eyes. Her beauty etched deep into his memory. Perhaps it was possible. Lazar was right he had been confusing his loyalty to Irons with gratitude. After all it was Irons that made him the dangerous assassin that he was. A lethal and loyal warrior. But it was Sara who made him more then just that. He was her protector, her wielder knight. She may not want to accept it now but he was going convince her. Ian Nottingham was good at persuasion. He had a new purpose in life. To live and protect the wielder of the Witchblade. This time not willing to die for her but instead fight to live and stand by her side. The two small scars on his left wrist throbbed lightly. The feeling he felt earlier crawled up his arm and bathed his body in a warm afterglow.  
  
'I suppose the Witchblade agrees with me.' He mused as he stroked the faint scars with a leather-clad finger. Ian soon opened his eyes and got out of the car.  
  
Immediately as he stepped over the threshold a surge of apprehension ran through his body. The throb in his left wrist no longer warm and comforting was unexpectedly cold. Could it mean that Irons knows about his visit with Sara? Should he prepare for yet another beating? As he neared the doubled doors that lead to the den he could hear voices carry through the slight opening. Ian moved closer but hesitated to enter. His eyes widen when one of the voices he recognized was his own.  
  
"When will I fight?"  
  
Irons grinned as he recalled the same question asked by then a much younger Nottingham. He eyed his servant as he stood in front of the fireplace, in the middle of the den. Still like Ian but yet this one held confidence as he held his head up. Irons' response was the same as it was those many years ago.  
  
"Soon enough." Irons, with cane in hand, began to circle his new servant. " Now tell me what do these words have in common: Intimidation ... temptation ... abandonment ... rejection ... opposition ... Titillation ... enigma ... seduction?"  
  
As Irons stood behind his servant and swung his cane over Nottingham's shoulder. With lighting speed, much like Ian, Nottingham crossed his arms at the shoulder and trapped the weapon with his elbows. Behind him Irons smirked and nodded obviously approving of Nottingham's exceptional skill. Irons continued to twirl the cane in his hand as he made his way in front of Nottingham.  
  
"Is the picture getting clearer?"  
  
"These are all stratagems for controlling Sara Pezzini." Irons took the handle of the cane and tucked it under Nottingham's chin.  
  
Cerulean and caramel eyes boar into each other. Irons looked into the dark abysmal depths of Nottingham's eyes and saw an empty void. 'Had Immo been right about this one? Should he be worried about Nottingham's so called aggression levels?' Irons thought. No, perhaps not an empty void there was something flickering behind those eyes. But in the blink of an eye Irons couldn't recognized what he had seen.  
  
"For containing her. I had envisioned a scenario in which Sara would become a member of our family and you could serve us both." Nottingham grinned at the idea of them being a 'family'.  
  
Irons lowered the cane and turned to walk away. A bit unnerved by Nottingham's wicked grin. He cast aside the feeling and continued to speak.  
  
"However, Sara Pezzini is a lioness. Fascinating as a zoological specimen, but worthless as a pet. And yet ... invaluable for the blood that courses through her veins." Irons thoughts had wondered he didn't hear the door open.  
  
."Ian, are you so willing to leave your Lady's Sara's side? To leave her vulnerable against the evil elements that is after the Witchblade? Are you willing to break the vow you've made lifetimes ago to serve the wielder? Do you want your Lady to meet her untimely demise, alone?".  
  
"And it's her blood you covet." Ian's seething voice echoed in the den as he walked in. Finally having heard enough of Irons' plans for Lady Sara. It didn't take much more convincing for Ian to chose. The fire in the great hearth burned and crackled. Mimicking the sounds of the connection between Ian and Irons finally breaking.  
  
Ian focused on both men as he made his way towards them. Making sure to keep his distance from them. Ian glared at that the mirror image of himself. Who was this person who stood before him with his face? A twin brother? Nottingham glared at his predecessor, the corners of his mouth rising into an evil smirk. Ian's face remained stoic but his heart was beating against his chest.  
  
"I'm so glad you could join us this evening, Ian. I would like to introduce your successor." Irons stood beside Nottingham. His right hand heavily patted the shoulder of the other. Irons leaned slight on the cane he held. His eyes never leaving Ian. Wanted to observe any reaction. Unfortunately he didn't expect the condescending smile on Ian's face.  
  
"So this abomination is want you and Dr. Immo have been hiding deep in the bowels of the mansion. A replicate of me? A clone?" Irons could feel the tension in Nottingham's shoulder pulsating under his hand. With a hard squeeze from Irons Nottingham obediently stood frozen. Even from the distance that set them apart Ian could see the rage running through the clone's eyes.  
  
"Ah, but you see Ian, he, is so much more superior then you. His very skill far exceeds yours. And he is solely loyal to me." Ian caught the look on the clone's face as his eyes quickly glanced side ways towards Irons. Ian doubted that Irons had much control over this one. Which only made the clone much more dangerous.  
  
Perhaps Irons was right and the clone's skills far exceeded Ian's. 'No' Ian thought. The only difference between the two was the control they had over their emotions. Without control this clone was far from dangerous. Ian cursed at himself at the thought he was going to willing give up his life only to leave Sara alone to deal with this maniac on the loose. "His devotion to me will not falter unlike you." Irons grinned.  
  
"Let me deal with this weakling traitor, master." Nottingham's hands were ready balled up into fist. His body ridged with adrenaline coursing through his body. Nottingham was ready to fight and all Irons had to do was say the word. Irons held the clone back with one arm crossed over his chest.  
  
"No, you have your orders. Go and continue your vigilance over Sara Pezzini." Ian's eyes went wide with fear. Irons smiled at the obvious reaction from Ian. Before Nottingham left Irons added, "Remember you are not to make contact with her until I say."  
  
With a loud groan Nottingham left the den through the other side entrance that lead to the back of the mansion. But not before provoking Ian with an evil smile and commenting, "Don't worry Ian I'll watch her well."  
  
Ian was conflicted to follow the clone or to stay and finish his confrontation with Irons. Apparently his decision was made for him. His legs were rooted in place and he couldn't move. As much as he longed to be by Sara's side, Ian knew this was important. Besides Ian had a feeling that Sara, even with the clone loose, was safe for now. He watched as the clone disappeared, leaving him alone with Irons. Ian's doubts were slowly rising as he stared at the man who raised him since he was a child.  
  
Irons spared Ian a glance before making his way to his favorite throne like chair. He sat down, crossed his legs at the knees, laying the cane across his lap, and stared up at the man before him. 'Interesting' Irons thought. Immediately he could see the changes in his once loyal servant. Ian's arms lazily against his sides, head no longer bowed down, and his eyes daringly locked with his. Both men glared at each other the only sound that echoed was coming from the fire. Taking a deep breath Irons tilted his head slight and spoke.  
  
"I truly had hoped that Sara would become a part of our family, Ian. But as you know Sara's tenacious individuality conflicted with what I had envisioned to be a worthy wielder."  
  
"You mean you had hoped that the current wielder, Sara Pezzini, would have been more docile and susceptible. You never expected her to be strong willed and stubborn. You never expected a woman who was daring and fearless. A woman who had turned down and rejected you at every turn."  
  
Irons were already seething as he sat there listening to Ian. His lips pursed together, jaw clenched together, and the hand that languidly rested on the armrest of the chair made it's to grasp the handle of the cane. The site of Irons worked up was quite amusing to Ian. Irons always the calm and cool collective businessman was being provoked with words uttered by his servant. Irons tried to play Ian's game with words of his own.  
  
"As I seem to recall I was not the only one rejected by the fair Sara. How is she by the way Ian? Did you two have nice chat when you went to see her this evening?" It was Irons turn to gloat in Ian's obvious discomfort.  
  
"Though the Lady Sara does not accept me now she will in time. For I plan to serve my mistress well until this life is over." Ian lifted his head higher. His voice full of pride and respect.  
  
"What makes you think she will accept you, boy?!" Irons held a firm grip of his cane as he got up from his chair and stood in front of Ian.  
  
"The Witchblade." Irons cut in before Ian could continue.  
  
"The Witchblade?" Irons snorted, absently rubbing the mark of the blade on his right hand ".Do not assume what the Witchblade wants Ian."  
  
"You know less then you think you do" Ian too inadvertently stroked the two scars the Witchblade had left. Irons unaware of Ian's bond with the blade continued to speak.  
  
"So it is the Witchblade and Sara that you serve?" Irons shook his head and a light chuckle left his lips. "It is written that no man can serve two masters, Ian."  
  
Ian nodded his head, "I agree. I was mistaken to think I could have proven the exception." Ian lowered his eyes and bowed his head.  
  
"And now you've seen the errors in your ways and you agonize between your devotion to me and your ... passion for Sara Pezzini?"  
  
"At first yes but now." Ian's voice trailed off, as he shook his head no.  
  
"Please do enlighten me, Ian." Irons stared at the top of Ian's head.  
  
"I was distraught at first. Confused really with feelings I've never felt before. Due to my training these emotions were foreign to me. I could not apprehend what were transpiring, let alone conduct in a manner that would not conflict with what I had been taught, with what I was ordered to do. The contradiction as I aided one master yet compromised the safety of the other. Consequently my failure was inevitable. I had even contemplated to consult my solace in the embrace of death. That was until."  
  
"Until what?!" Irons asked.  
  
Ian looked up from his bowed head. His gaze locked with Irons eyes. "An intervention."  
  
Irons tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. His grip on the cane tightens along with his jaw. 'Intervention? By whom? By what?' Irons questions were soon answered as Ian spoke.  
  
"The Witchblade gave me a taste of a life outside of this. It opened my eyes to the path I was destined to follow. A path along side the wielder. It was then I soon realized I was not serving two masters but one. The Witchblade and the wielder are but one entity. One does not exist without the other. Therefore I do not agonize over my devotion between you or Sara. For I serve but one, Sara Pezzini." His tone of voice echoed with complete awe and reverence  
  
"Your precious Lady Sara hates you. She sees you as freak. What makes you believe she would want you by her side?"  
  
Ian shrugged his shoulders and said, "We shall see what the lady wants."  
  
"And you assumed I would simply let you go, to her. You know not your master. Have you forgotten, Ian, I created you, I made you, and it is I who shall decided how you live your life." Without warning the cane swung dangerously close to connecting with Ian's face. The vise like grip Ian had on Irons right wrist was what stopped the momentum.  
  
The icy blue eyes that were locked with Ian's soon melted away, exposing the fiery flame of pure hatred. "But I do," Ian hissed, "I know my enemy very well." Irons entire body began to tremble as he strained against Ian's hold. Ian applied more pressure, painfully squeezing Irons' wrist with his right hand. Finally the sound of the cane hitting the floor echoed in the room. But Ian did not relinquish his hold.  
  
With his free arm, Irons swung his left fist only to have it blocked by Ian's arm. Immediately Ian brought down his fist across Irons' face. He stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. If it weren't for Ian still holding onto his wrist Irons would have fallen. Not wanting to loose the momentum, Ian placed a hand on Irons chest, tug on the arm he held, pivoted on his foot and pushed the man forward. Sending Irons reeling back against the floor in front of the leather couch.  
  
Irons could feel a bruise forming on his face. As he sat up he brought his left hand up and felt the thick liquid flowing down from his nose. He pulled back to stare at the crimson color covering his fingers. With the same hand he grabbed the edge of the couch and unsteadily pushed himself up stand. They did nothing but glare at one another as they began to circle little area of the room. Their bodies were rigid, ready to attack or defend if needed.  
  
Mutually they stopped their predatory dance and stood facing each other with only a few feet separating them. Ian lethally poised in the middle of the den. Not once did his attention waver from his foe. Irons back was facing the great hearth, the backdrop from the flames were fitting for his menacing appearance and the fiery anger in his eyes.  
  
Irons touched his face again only to have more blood coating his fingertips. 'The insolent fool will pay for that' he thought. Irons began to massage the injured wrist, using his fingers to feel any damages brought upon by Ian's grip. It was not broken but it was rather painful and there was no doubt it was already bruised.  
  
"How does it feel, Kenneth?" Ian mused, "Knowing that what you've help create will now be the cause of your demise?" Irons heart began to pound against his chest. He had heard reports and tales of Ian's professional exploits. But never once had he heard or known what his victims must have felt during those last few moments.  
  
Now it was Irons turn and he never would have thought to be on the receiving end. Palms were sweaty, heartbeat racing, the anxiety felt when knowing the inevitable what here in the shape of Ian Nottingham. 'Is this what his victims felt like?' Irons didn't linger on the thought for long. Irons were different from those sniveling weaklings Ian pursued. The man had managed to outwit death for years and he was going to do it again.  
  
"Self-assurance was never your better traits, Ian." Irons felt the cane brush against his right foot as he slightly shifted his weight. He nudged the wooden cane with the tip of his toe. Both men looked down at the possible weapon. At the same time Irons casually slipped his uninjured hand into his pants pocket, feeling for the tiny device concealed inside. Ian's eyes returned to stare at Irons. A wicked smile spread across Ian's face as if daring Irons to pick it up. However, Irons made no move to retrieve the cane off the floor. Instead he stood there and began to speak.  
  
"Do not be so bold to assume you've won. And it is also written, 'As for this worthless slave, throw him out into the darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth', Irons had pressed the tiny button on the device; the room suddenly filled with successions of flashing white light. Before Ian realized what was happening he was trapped, his body began to convulse, and he immediately dropped to the floor.  
  
"Immo!" Irons bellowed. The doctor, who had been waiting just outside the double doors, came in with a syringe held in one of his hands. The look of trepidation and fear as he entered was fixed on his face long before Ian had arrived. Earlier that evening Irons had explained to him of his plans for Ian and Immo had no choice but to yield to his demands. Immo quickly inserted the needle into Ian's neck. Soon the convulsions ceased and Ian's prone body lay unconscious on the floor.  
  
Dr. Immo shook his head slightly at the thought of what was coming next. Immo had held a soft spot for Ian. He glanced at the man before him, remembering how he had helped Irons usher Ian into the world. The boy he had grown to care for, like a son he never had, was now being delivered into the hands of death and he was helping. 'If there was only something he could do?' Immo wondered. But what? He couldn't possibly go against Irons. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a rustling sound behind him.  
  
"I've told you once, Ian; I am not a merciful man." Irons continued to speak as though the unconscious man was still able to hear him, perhaps he could. Irons pulled out the little remote from his pocket, pressing another button to deactivate the strobes. He bent down to pick up the cane and made his way towards Ian. Irons knelt down besides Ian's head, grabbed the watch cap, and wiped the blood off of his face. With the cane Irons tapped the doctor's shoulder. Immo never turned his head but he was listening.  
  
"Bring him down, strip off his clothes, and restrain him." Immo nodded. Irons straighten himself up and tossed the stained watch cap on the floor next to Ian.  
  
"Your darkness awaits, Ian." Irons said as he towered over Ian's body and soon left the room. 


	27. Chapter twenty seven

~*~  
  
"Pardon excusez-moi, mademoiselle," a refined and jovial voice pulled the woman out of her light nap. Bright azure eyes stared drowsily at the flight attendant. She blinked once then twice before she responded in a smooth, cultured American accent. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you, mademoiselle. You had requested to inform you the hour before we land in New York?" The petite woman held her breath as she apologetically spoke in French.  
  
The woman furrowed her eyebrows, grasping what was going on around her. She smiled at the woman and spoke, "No it's alright, thank you." The flight attendant happily continued to move down the wide aisle assisting other passengers. The woman pushed the shade up the window and stared out. It was still dark but the moon reflected off of the Atlantic Ocean and in the distance she knew the city that never sleeps waited for her arrival. Or rather someone was waiting for her.  
  
"Welcome home, Faith." She sighed as she realized the reason she was returning to New York in the first place.  
  
. It's me.  
  
Two simple words that got her hoping on one of the fastest flights to New York from London: British Airways' Concorde jet. She glanced at her watch. It has been nearly three hours since her very brief conversation with Ian ended. A lot could happen in three hours she thought. With a sigh she unfasten the seatbelt and got up from her seat. She opened the overhead compartment and pulled out her one carry on bag she brought. Faith headed for the back to use the restroom. As she slowly approached she could hear two voices whispering, verbally quarrelling. Both parties soon stopped their heated conversation when they felt her presences. Faith paid no attention and entered the restroom.  
  
Immediately she lowered the lid from the toilet and placed her bag on top. She unzipped the bag, pulled out a set of clothes, hanging them from the hook on the door, and set the bag on the floor. Faith began to undress replacing the outfit she had on with the one that was hanging. First she put on black slacks and a black silk sleeveless turtleneck top. Then she sat on the lid of the toilet and pulled on black high-heeled boots. She got up and faced the mirror. She pulled out a smaller bag containing her toiletries. She grabbed the brush and began combing out her long dark- blonde locks, tightly drawing it back into a bun. Faith stared at her reflection and began straightening her outfit. The choice of color had somehow enhanced her appearance giving her a more mystic physique. The creamy color of her skin and hair was a definite contradiction to the darkness of her clothes. Yet what stood out the most were those hauntingly icy cerulean eyes. Her mirror image stared back and Faith actually shuddered at her own image. 'Get a hold of yourself, Faith. Concentrate and focus. Ian needs you now.' She took a deep breath while turning on the faucet and quickly splashing her face with cold water. The chill from the water awakened her senses. She closed her eyes, took in another deep breath, and reopened her eyes. Faith watched in the mirror as her posture changed, her attitude changed, and the fear that was in her eye was gone. She was ready or almost.  
  
As she inhaled she could faintly smell caffeine. "Coffee. Must need coffee. Then I'll be ready." She grinned as she stuffed her clothes and toiletries into the bag before slipping on her long black leather coat. She unlocked the door and slipped out of the restroom. 'Damn! Looks like I'll be having more then just coffee.' Faith stared at the pair. It was the same ones that had been arguing earlier. Deciding that maybe wasn't the best time to ask Faith was about to turn and leave. That was until the man grabbed the arm of the female fight attendant.  
  
"Let go of my arm," The attendant demanded.  
  
"Don't think so darlin. Not until you give me what I want."  
  
"I told you I'm not interested. Now let me go." The flight attendant tried to pull her arm away but he wouldn't let go. Instead he increased the pressure of his hold.  
  
"I don't think you understand." He warned, roughly pulling her towards him.  
  
"I understand perfectly. You can't take no for an answer so instead, just because you're rich, you can push people around like some bully. You're just a fucking asshole!"  
  
A bit surprised by the flight attendant's bold comments and attitude, Faith grinned and nodded her head in approval. But soon her grin faded when she seen the man raise his hand, ready to strike.  
  
"Why you fucking whor."  
  
"Excuse me I hate to interrupt this lovely tryst," Faith grabbed the man's arm, painfully twisting it behind his back, and slamming him against the metal cabinets. Still speaking, not once pausing. "But it's obvious that the woman is not interested. Now if you'd be so kind and apologize to?" Faith turned to stare at the woman.  
  
"T.. Tasha.." The woman was barely able to answer as she stared wide-eyed.  
  
"Right. Now if you apologize to Tasha then I'll let you go." Faith waited for an answer.  
  
"I ain't going to apologize to no one you crazy bitch!" It wasn't exactly the response she was looking for, so Faith did the next best thing. With her free hand she grabbed the back of his head, pulled back, and slammed his face against the metal cabinet. She let go and even before his body hit the floor he was unconscious.  
  
Tasha's mouth hung open and her eyes were about to pop out of her head. She couldn't believe what just happened. She turned her attention to the mysterious woman clad only in black. Faith was smoothing out her clothes when she heard a loud gasp. A male flight attendant had shown up. He spoke over a hand that was barely covering his mouth, "Oh my God Tasha, sweetheart what happened? Are you alright?" He questioned his feminine voice laced with shock; the hand that was covering his mouth was now dramatically laid against his chest. Eugene waved his other hand in front of her face. Tasha never answered.  
  
"Its my fault actually." Faith finally spoke up. Eugene barely contained the scream as he heard the low raspy voice. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
"No, no it's quite all right. I just didn't see you standing there." Eugene pressed his palm over his racing heartbeat, trying to regain his composure. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to scream like that. So how is it this was," He waved a hand over the unconscious man, "your fault."  
  
"Well I was hoping to get a cup of coffee when I happen to see this gentleman," she pointed at the man, "coming on to your friend here. She refused his offer, he got angry and was about to become violent, so I decided to intervene." Faith calmly recapped what happened. Eugene quickly closed his mouth and turned to Tasha.  
  
"Is this what happened, Tasha?"  
  
"Yeah that's exactly what happened." A bit surprised and confused about the whole situation. Grateful that this was her last flight and that she was finally moving to New York. She didn't have to worry about putting up with assholes and mysterious people coming to her rescue. They stood there in an uncomfortable silence until the soft moans coming from the body broke the tension. It was Faith who first spoke.  
  
"So about that coffee?" She asked nonchalantly.  
  
"Coffee?" Both attendants stared at each other dumbfounded. "Oh the coffee, right. Its not quite ready but I'll have Eugene or myself serve you a cup when it is."  
  
"Thank you. I'm in seat 11." Faith picked up her bag and turned to walk away.  
  
Two sets of eyes watched as the mysterious woman walked down the aisle back to her seat. "That's one strange woman. So what do you think she does for a living? I bet she's spy or an assassin or something." Eugene's voice was filled with excitement as he tried to guess what 'passenger eleven's' career is. It was a fun game they had made up to pass the time during flights.  
  
"Eugene I swear your imagination just goes wild sometimes. I bet the next think you're going to say is that she's some kind of missing heiress or princess or something." Eugene just rolled her eyes. He turned his attention towards the not so unconscious man.  
  
"Whatever, come on help me get prince charming back to his seat. Then you can deliver the 'coffee' to Ms. Mysterious," Eugene playfully lowered his voice, "over there. Though I'm still betting she's some kind of spy." They both laughed not realizing Eugene wasn't far from the truth. Gratefully they lead the semi-conscious man back to his seat without further incident. And Tasha was already on her way to the back by the time Eugene secured the man in his seat.  
  
She filled the cup with coffee and headed back to the front. Faith paid no attention to Tasha as she served her coffee. She didn't turn to address the flight attendant's presence; she merely tossed a, "Thank you," over her shoulder not tearing her gaze from the window. "You're welcome, ma'am." Tasha quietly replied as she shrugged and made her way to assist other passengers.  
  
Faith watched; as the lights of the city were growing brighter as the mass silhouette of New York broaden. She glanced at her watch, "half an hour more," she said. Faith carefully picked up the cup of coffee and took a cautious sip. The heat of the liquid smoothly flowed down her throat. The warmth from the coffee quickly began to spread throughout her body. Taking another sip she sank deeper into her seat, letting her body relax a bit. Enjoying the small respite for she didn't know what to expect and she knew it would be awhile before the next reprieve. "Trouble, always there when you need it," Faith jokily said as she downed the rest of the tepid coffee.  
  
Perhaps it was the caffeine finally kicking in, the anticipation of the plane landing, or the adrenaline rush from the previous encounter that made Faith apprehensive. 'So much for relaxing.' She turned her eyes to the opposite side of the plane. She grinned as she spotted the man from earlier. Recalling how easily it was to incapacitate the burly man. She flexed her hands and stared at them. It was too easy she thought she needed a worthier opponent. Faith made sure to always stay fit, never letting her skills perish but instead flourish in time. Well he was conscious now and he watched that flight attendant, Tasha. He continued to watch until his gazed locked with icy blue ones. Immediately he snapped his head forward and completely avoided both Faith and the flight attendant.  
  
"I still got it. Ian would be proud," Faith beamed. Remembering hazel eyes that held a lot of intensity. How the intensity of those eyes bore into his enemies' soul immobilize them on the spot like some serpent memorizing their victims. Or how soft and innocent they could be, "I hate that damn lost puppy look."  
  
"Excuse me?" The voice broke into Faith's thoughts; she blinked a few times then turned her attention to the person standing besides her. Her eyes widen as she stared into the same hazel orbs. Faith jerked her head back slightly to fully look at the flight attendant, Tasha. Wavy russet hair pulled back into a braid, with a few sun kissed locks lying lazily against her face. Fine dark eyebrows arched above those same intense eyes. A petite nose, full lips, and high cheekbones all adorn the small frame of her face. So much like Ian.  
  
"Do you by chance have any sisters or.brothers?"  
  
"I.uh.excuse me?" Tasha stammered from the sudden question.  
  
Faith finally found her composure and began to apologize, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable and stare like that. Its just that you look like," Tasha raised her eyebrows. "Actually you just remind me of someone I know, that's all. Forgive me I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."  
  
"No its okay," Tasha said with a small smile. "I'm an only child actually." Faith nodded her head.  
  
An uneasy pause came over them until Tasha spoke. "Well...um the Captain has turned on the seatbelt sign. So if you could bring your seat to an upright position and fasten your seatbelt we'll be landing shortly." Faith looked at her watch again. Just fifteen more minutes until they landed. "Right, thank you."  
  
Tasha had never wanted to leave so quickly before. But for some reason her body didn't want to cooperate. "Are you finished with this?" Faith glanced at the empty cup and nodded. Tasha picked up the cup but still didn't move. Faith noticed that she hadn't left and so she stared at her in confusion.  
  
Tasha leaned in and spoke, "I.um just wanted to..um.thank you for what you did earlier with that gentleman." Faith smiled, "It was no problem but you're welcome." Faith could see relief flash in Tasha's eyes. 'Eyes that were so much like Ian's. Ah, let it go Faith. Come on you gotta concentrate.'  
  
"Well I hope you have a pleasurable stay in New York, Ms?"  
  
"Faith, the name is Faith. And you're Tasha, right?"  
  
"Natasha, Natasha Marion. Thank you again not only for the help earlier but for making my last flight interesting."  
  
"Last flight?" Faith wondered.  
  
"Yeah this is my last flight working. I actually quit and I'm moving to New York. To pursue a better career I guess."  
  
"All this traveling is getting boring?" Faith amusingly asked.  
  
"That and it's a bit exhausting at the same time. I want to settle in a permanent place for once." Surprisingly Faith fully understood. For years having to travel from place to place. Not a place to truly call home.  
  
"Well I wish you the best of luck, Natasha Marion."  
  
"Thank you," they shook hands and Tasha left.  
  
Faith had a nagging feeling about Natasha Marion. But now wasn't the time to think about it so she pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the situation at hand. That is to find Ian Nottingham and hope it wasn't too late. 


	28. Chapter twenty eight

Faith anticipation was slowly abated as she felt the gentle touchdown of the plane. After skillfully landing the pilots immediately directed the jet towards the appropriate terminal. Even before that Faith had unfastened the seatbelt and was sitting in the empty chair near the aisle. With her bag clutched in her hand she glanced down at her watch. It was a little after 3 A.M. grateful for the early morning hour. Less or no traffic and everyone should still be asleep. Reaching the mansion would not be a problem but getting in might.  
  
The hissing sound of the door opening pulled her back from her thoughts and Faith quickly maneuvered around other passengers. As she approached the door she spotted Natasha. The nagging feeling had returned and she couldn't understand why. She looked at the woman's features again. Faith hadn't realized just how tall Natasha was. They were about the same height of 5'11 and Natasha seemed to be in fitting health. She had the same hair color, same eyes, and even the same body frame. Could she really be? Faith shook her head. 'No, nothing a little hair dye and contacts can't change to make a person appear something they're not. Come on Faith you know better. You've done countless of transformations before. Natasha is just a coincidence.'  
  
"Thank you for choosing British Airways. We hope you enjoy your stay in New York." Eugene's cheery voice broke through Faith's trance. She quickly flashed the flight attendant a smile and continued down the aisle. She was nearly out of the plane before Tasha stopped her.  
  
"Thank you again for everything. I wish you the best of luck," she smiled, her sincerity reflected in those hazel eyes. "Maybe we might run into each other while in New York."  
  
Faith grinned, "Yes we just might. Well good luck to you, Natasha." She continued down the corridor and headed straight for one of the many rows of lockers that adorn the walls of the terminal. Finally spotting the appropriate one she punched in the combination on the keypad and a locker opened. Faith bent to retrieve the small duffle bag then entered the ladies room. Grateful that it was empty Faith found a stall, locked it, and placed one of the handles onto the hook. She dropped her other bag on the floor and took off her coat, draping it over the top of the hook.  
  
Faith then carefully unzipped the bag. Grinning as she made a quick assessment of the contents. Ian had filled the bag with her most desired weapons, daggers. She hated guns and would rather use blades instead. Not that she wasn't any good with firearms on the contrary Faith was an excellent marksman. She just rather preferred the blade. Much like hand-to- hand combat but with a blade as an extension of one's self. How she actually enjoyed the deadly dance of steel striking against steel. It was a dance she knew well.  
  
Anticipate but never underestimate your adversary's next move, outmaneuver every attack. Then to retaliate with your own sets of thrusts and blows. As the dance ends you hope that you will turn out to be the victor. And to not celebrate over the defeat of your foe but rejoice in the knowledge that your skills had once again saved your life. It was the feeling of achievement she would never get when using a gun. Perhaps it was her own silliness but she felt that with a blade came honor. Unfortunately there was no honor in death and Faith never relished in taking someone's life. She just appreciated the fight but in a deadly dance such as this death was the only conclusion. Faith made sure it was not hers.  
  
"Get your head out of the clouds, Faith. This isn't a fairy tale the one in distress is a knight in tarnished armor. The woman is no damsel at all but a Homicide detective. Who has no idea what's going on and probably doesn't care what happens to the knight. Justice will never be served to the evil villain and he won't just die either. Instead he will manage to live on forever and wreck havoc on other poor souls. And it's the sidekick that actually comes to the rescue. Perhaps this is a fairy tale; a rather warped out one." Faith snorted as she pulled out a unique apparatus from the bag.  
  
The device had some kind of harness with three straps that needed to be fastened and a long metal scabbard. The lengthy equipment was as long as her forearm. Faith comfortably positioned the weapon, metal scabbard on top, and began to tightly fasten the straps. Faith clenched her hand into a tight fist and snapped it down. Within the blink of an eye a 'snkit' sound echoed in the empty restroom and a long jagged blade protruded out. She turned her arm to inspect the blade. The metal was cool against her fingertips. 'Just how I like it: Shiny and sharp. Who needs claws when you have an 9 inch blade sticking out of your arm.' Faith grinned. With another flex of her arm the blade retreated back into the scabbard. She quickly fastened the other weapon onto her right arm.  
  
Faith pulled out a pair of high-topped black boots from the bag. 'Ah, please don't tell me he wants me to where this with these pants? Besides what is wrong with my shoes?' She complained while examining one of the shoes. At the foot of the shoe a small incision could be seen between the thick rubber sole. She purposefully tripped the trigger and instantly a curvy 2 inch blade sprung out. "Oh, well if you put it in that case, sure." She said sarcastically. Faith carefully sat on the toilet and began to switch boots. Before getting up she reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of sheathed black boot knives. After securing her knives and boots she stood up and looked what other goodies Ian had left her.  
  
Inside she found 3 screaming arrows, her favorite throwing knife. The sleek metal was S-shaped with the blade at on end. There was no handle grip, which made the knife easier to throw, and a much smoother sail through the air. She pocketed those in a compartment in her leather jacket. She also pocketed the small 150,000-volt stun gun that was left in the bag. Lastly Faith pulled out a set of car keys, a cell phone, and an envelope. Inside the envelope was a parking ticket, directions to the car, and money to pay for the parking. Also inside was a small white card key. No doubt a key to get inside the mansion.  
  
Faith double-checked the duffle bag and when there was nothing else in it she shrugged on her coat, easily concealing the two weapons on her arms, and unlocked the stall door. She picked up her bag and tossed the black duffle into the nearby trash bin. Faith made a quick check in the full- length mirror making sure nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Before leaving the ladies room she decided to call Ian, no answer. She tried again as she walked out of the ladies room but still no answer. 'Damn it something is definitely wrong. Ian always answers on the first ring.' Then suddenly as she emerged someone bumped into her and she lost her grip on the phone.  
  
"Oh my God, I am so sorry. I was on my phone and you just came out of nowhere. I didn't see you." Faith straighted up and smoothed out her clothes as she turned to look at the woman. It was Tasha the flight attendant.  
  
"I take it this wasn't exactly what you meant about running into each other." Tasha's eyes widen as she recognized the passenger. "Don't worry about I wasn't exactly paying attention either. Speaking of phones where did I drop mine?"  
  
"Here you go ladies. You both had dropped them and I picked them up for you." Eugene handed them back their phones.  
  
"Thank you," they both said. Faith placing her phone in her coat while Tasha placed hers in purse.  
  
"Again I'm sorry," Tasha apologized. "Don't worry about it. Maybe I'll see you around. You two have a good morning." Faith smiled and left. Tasha and Eugene followed behind.  
  
"So did you get a hold of your friend, what's his name?" Eugene asked. "Jake, Jake McCarty. Yeah I did, I'll be taking a cab to his apartment. I'll be staying at his place while I get a few other things settled. I just left a message on his machine." Tasha informed.  
  
Faith quickly found the shiny silver Jaguar Ian had left behind in the parking lot. She turned the alarm off and popped the trunk. She placed her bag in the back and slammed the lid. Before getting in the car she pulled out the cell contemplating if she should try again. 'No,' she thought. 'If he didn't answer the first time then most likely Ian wasn't going to this time. He was in trouble.' Faith got into the car and revved the engine. She pulled out of the parking stall and began her journey towards 1111 Faust Street.  
  
With Faith's exceptional driving skills, going at the speed that could have broken the sound barrier and most importantly without getting caught, found herself standing behind one of the walls that secured the mansion. She decided to park the Jag about a block up from the mansion. Faith scanned the area first before making a run for the wall. With moves that would make Jackie Chan proud Faith scaled the wall and was quickly over.  
  
Like a feline she landed gracefully to the ground. She used her powerful legs to run across the grounds, making sure to avoid any and all security cameras. Ian no doubt was the one responsible for setting up security and knowing Ian so well she knew what to look for, where to go, and when to move. Soon she reached a metal door concealed behind some rather tall shrubbery. She pulled out the white card key and slipped it into the slot. Immediately the door quietly slid open and Faith was finally inside.  
  
She looked at her watch, the indigo backlight illuminating the face. Faith sighed it took her fifteen minutes. 'Must be getting rusty.' She chastised for letting her skills slip. Every second counted, Ian counted on her. It was a good thing she knows the mansion well or else it would take her forever to find Ian. By then it would be too late. The hallway was dark but Faith didn't need any light to see where she was going. There were only two rooms she was planning on visiting: Dr. Immo's lab and the torture room.  
  
~*~ 


	29. Chapter twenty nine

~*~  
  
'Watch over the wielder. Watch over Sara Pezzini. Why must I just watch? Why could I not act on my instincts? Doesn't my master not see me fitting, capable of being the lethal weapon he wants me to be, what I've been created for? His master should be grateful that he did not turn into some emotional distraught despondent fool. A treacherous fool who let his guard down over a woman and her little toy.' Nottingham complained as he sat vigil on Sara's fire escape. He leaned against the wall near the window.  
  
'I should not be here watching her. I should be back at the mansion dealing with my predecessor in the appropriate manner.' Staring at his hands his weapons. Yes, he knew how he wanted to deal with that weakling. Nottingham flexed his gloved hands then formed them up into fist. The leather of the glove made a stretching noise as he tighten his grip. His arms began to shake from squeezing his hands together so tightly. He snapped opened his hands and let out a frustrated rush of air escape his lips. Feeling the rush of blood flowing throughout his hand and fingers.  
  
On impulse Nottingham tore the glove off his left hand. Even in the moonlight Nottingham could tell the deep contrast of his pale skin with the black color of his sleeve. Again he curled his long fingers into a tight fist this time nails were digging into his palm. Squeezing harder until the dulled nails broke the skin and cut through his flesh. Nottingham brought his fist closer to his face. Fascinated as dark lines of blood flowed down his arm. His grip was unrelenting even as the pain escalated and the thin lines of blood grew thicker.  
  
He brought his face closer to his opened mouth. The tip of his tongue grazed against his wrist licking off a tiny amount of blood. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the acerbic taste and texture of blood on his tongue. Nottingham swallowed but there was still a faint taste of the red liquid on his tongue. With one last squeeze he opened his eyes. He uncurled his fist and everything from the palm to the tips of his fingernails was coated in blood.  
  
"Pain and blood. This is what I want, what I need. Not to be stuck here watching over this whore."  
  
Nottingham had seen movement in the apartment from the corner of his eye. He shifted slightly against the wall, turning his head to look inside Sara's apartment. From his position on the fire escape Nottingham had a clear view of Sara sleeping restlessly on her bed with the Witchblade glowing brightly on her wrist. Nottingham continued to watch irritably as Sara continued to toss and turn. She flipped from her stomach onto her back.  
  
Nottingham was about to turn his head away when he seen a flash of creamy skin. Sara had her right hand over her stomach. Unconsciously she began to move her right hand to join with the left that was under the pillow near her head. Somehow the opening part of the bracelet had caught onto the hem of her shirt. She began to let her arm travel up over her chest along for the ride was her shirt. Inch by inch skin was exposed and as Sara's arm got higher so did the shirt. The mystery of what was under the shirt would soon be exposed.  
  
Nottingham held his breath as he watched. The pain from this hand was completely forgotten. Soon another part of his body was quickly reacting. His mouth hung open as he waited for the inevitable. But Sara turned her body over lying once again flat on her stomach. He could see where the shirt stopped as it lay crumpled against underneath her body. Nottingham grinned perhaps he could understand his predecessor's physical weakness for the woman.  
  
.. Do not make any contact with the wielder. If I find out you have disobeyed me the consequence shall be severe.  
  
Irons' warning echoed in Nottingham's head. He looked at Sara again and where the shirt enticingly stopped. Perhaps he should add to his list of wants: pain, blood, and contact. He raised his left hand and with his index finger touched the cool windowpane. Stroking a small area of the glass as if he was touching her body. Leaving a long steak of blood on the window. His grin widen as Sara began to move along with the successions of his finger stroking the glass.  
  
The Witchblade's red stone radiated on Sara's wrist as she continued to toss and turn. She clutched the sheets to her body as soft moans elicited from her lips filled the quiet loft. Nottingham stopped what he was doing and watched. Intrigued over the turn of events. The blade retained its blazing glow as more moans escaped Sara's lips. This time accompanied with whispers. Nottingham had to strain to hear what she was saying.  
  
"Please.Now.Yes." three simple words that echoed into the night. It was a never-ending mantra with more words added here and there; ".Don't.Stop.No." and at times it weren't words but whimpering sounds. Sara's throaty whispers continued to fill the loft and Nottingham's ears. The way her body moved and the sounds elicited from her throat made his body react. It was obvious Nottingham was becoming aroused. His growing desire painfully contained in the confinement of his pants. If he didn't regain his control now he was going to loose it.  
  
He turned his back against the image of Sara on her back, crushing the bed sheet in her hands. He blocked out the sound of Sara's cries and moans. He took his other glove off and curled both hands into fist. Squeezing his hands until the painful sensations he felt earlier had returned. Until his nails began biting then cutting through the flesh of his palm, until he could feel the sticky texture of blood flowing from the crescent wounds. He brought his hands up arms crossed and clutched them to his chest. Nottingham squeezed even harder welcoming the pain but it didn't hinder his arousal. In fact an inexorable pressure was building.  
  
Perhaps this unyielding excitement wasn't about Sara now, though he still wanted her. It was his yearning desire for pain that was egging him on. Finally his aching release washed over him and he sank to his knees. In the distance he could hear Sara utter three different names in passion: Ewan, Christian, and, "Ian!" Sara yelled. But her last cry wasn't out of passion but out of panic. Nottingham realized something was wrong and if he didn't want to be seen decided it was best to move from his position. Quickly he got to his feet and left Sara's fire escape.  
  
Sara sat up in bed her breathing ragged; sheen of sweat coated her body, and her heartbeat racing. Sara raked a shaky hand through hair letting out a deep breath. From the corner of her eye she had seen movement on her fire escape. Without a second thought she rushed over to the window to see what was out there but there was nothing. With a sigh she turned away from the window.  
  
Sara made a detour to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. She raked another hand through her unruly hair and drank nearly half of the bottle. "Just what the hell are you doing to me?" she swore at the blade. Sara tired to recall what she had been dreaming but the images were already fading. Though she had this overwhelming feeling that it was a very intimate dream. She screwed the cap back on leaving the bottle on the counter. As she walked back to her bed a foreboding feeling washed over her. Something wasn't right and the blade's light show only confirmed it. She glanced at the alarm clock 3 A.M. 


	30. Chapter thirty

~*~  
  
Faith picked up her pace and began to race down the dark path. Only to slow down her strides when she knew the end was near. Faith stopped and blindly reached out for the handle of the door. Her hands glided down the cool metal frame until finally she grasped the handle and turned the knob. It didn't swing easily so Faith had to push against the door with her shoulder. She pushed until finally an iridescent light from the other side of the door spilled through the cracks. Faith gave one final push on the door and as it gave way the made a corroded creaking sound. Faith flinched from the brief noise. She stood still waiting for any confirmation that someone had detected her entry. She let out the breath she was holding and continued to walk into another hallway.  
  
Faith squinted her eyes against the glaring white fluorescent lights. She blinked once, twice, then a third time to adjust her eyesight. It took her more then a second for her eyes to grow accustom to the harsh light. She scanned the area and realized it was exactly as she remembered. The floors, walls, and yes even the ceilings were lined with stainless steel. Everything was immaculate and sterile. Her image reflected off the polished floor.  
  
Faith remembered the first time she had ventured down into the bowels of the mansion into 'The Dungeon' as she had called when she was a little. It was a true contradiction to the dismal muggy grime she had thought the Dungeon would be. The floor covered in dirt and mud, crevices along the walls and ceiling filled with mold and filth. And in place of the fluorescent lights were lines of torches lit by fire. Faith shook her head to clear her thoughts, 'Damn I had a warped imagination back then." She turned around to close the door behind her. She slowly pushed the door hoping no sounds would creak out again. Thankfully it softly clicked as it closed.  
  
Faith guardedly walked down the long corridor and at the end of the hallway she was stuck with a dilemma. The path broke into to three different directions. She looked down the hall to the left. At the end was a metal door with no handle but the frame was only equipped with a small keypad. She turned her head to the right there was no door at the end and it looked like the hall continued on. And just a few feet in front of her was a set of double metal doors. To the right Faith knew it was the passage that leads back up into the mansion. To the left was that horrid chamber: the torture room. Faith had an eerie feeling the reason Ian hadn't picked up his phone was because he was being held in there. For what reasons she didn't know yet.  
  
In order to gain access into the room she needed the pass code. Unfortunately there were only two people that knew the code and she wasn't one of them. One was Kenneth Irons and there was no way he would willingly tell her, especially to her. The second person that knew the code was behind door number two, Dr. Immo. Behind those doors was his lab, his sanctuary. One of the many rooms she had grown to hate over the years. Faith walked those last few feet, closing the gap between the doors and her. She closed her eyes but was immediately assaulted with memories from the past. Screams echoed in her ears and images ran through her mind. Faith took in a deep breath and willed them away. She was not going to linger on the past. She had to move on especially now when Ian needed her. Finally she brought her arm up and rested her right palm against one of the metal doors. She pressed against the cool metal frame, pushing until the door quietly hissed opened.  
  
Faith stepped over the threshold and was transported into the mad laboratory of Dr. Immo. She scanned the area of the room and noticed that nothing had changed all those years. Walls adored with cabinets all filled with medical supplies all from basic bandages and gauze to countless vials of medications. Not only cabinets but also shelves upon shelves of medical journals and books. To her left was a large freezer door. To her right were two recovery beds. In the middle of the room was a long sleek metal table. Hovering above were lamps and on a small tray where Dr. Immo's tools of his trade. Faith tore her gaze away from the table and continued to look around. An extensive array of medical equipment and machines also filled the large room. The room itself was a hospital all on its own.  
  
In the far corner of the room elevated on a platform was Dr. Immo's desk. The small lamp and the computer screen on his desk along with soft glows from a few cabinets were the only lights provided. Faith made her way through the lab over to stand behind Dr. Immo. The older man was still dressed in his white lab coat. Hunched over his desk, head resting on top of arms that served as pillows. Obviously asleep and oblivious to the presence standing behind him. From behind Faith turned the lamp off but left the computer screen on. Immo stirred but didn't awaken. That was until Faith tapped him on his shoulder and said, "Rise and shine Dr. Immo."  
  
Immo's head jerked up followed by his body. He looked from left to right trying to find the source of the voice. He was about to turn when an arm wove around his neck. Holding his head in place and pulling his body back against the chair. Immo began to struggle but stopped when he seen a long jagged blade popping out somewhere from under coated sleeve. His eyes widen as the cool blade was rested lightly touching his neck.  
  
"I will release my hold on a few conditions," Faith whispered into his ear, "don't run, don't call security and importantly don't turn around. I mean I would hate the fact that you may accidentally fall on my blade and kill yourself doctor." Faith moved her left arm away from his neck. Making sure Immo got a good eyeful of the sharp weapon before it slipped back under the sleeve. "Do we have an understanding, doctor?" Immo nodded his head. Faith slowly moved her arm and placed a hand on each shoulder.  
  
"Who are you? What are you doing here and what do you want?" Immo blurted out.  
  
"You are in no position to ask questions, Dr. Immo. Only to be allowed to answer them. But I will tell you this. I'm here for Ian Nottingham." 


	31. Chapter thirty one

"What do you want with Ian Notti," Immo's inquiry was cut short when two hands painfully squeezed his shoulders and a firm, "DOCTOR," reminded him that he was not to ask questions. Immo understood and nodded his head. The grip on his shoulder eased and the painful tension slowly abated.  
  
"Where is Ian, Dr. Immo?" Immo contemplated on what he was going to say. Faith's patience was weighing thin when he didn't answer right away. She reiterated her question this time in a more impatient and frustrated voice. "Where. Is. Ian?"  
  
Immo sighed heavily and said, "Ian is," he paused. "He's being detained in a room somewhere in the mansion." Faith grinned, "Now, now, doctor." She said in a singsong way. "Let's not be vague. Unless that is your cute way of saying that he's being held in the torture room." Immo was shocked that this person knew about the room. There were not too many that knew about the room and those that had known were most likely dead.  
  
Immo's curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head wanting to catch a glimpse of the person. It was a big mistake. Before he could completely turn around Faith grabbed beneath his chin and roughly jerked his face forward, away from her. Immo realized his mistake could have proven fatal. She could have easily snapped his neck but grateful that it had not come to that.  
  
"That was too close, Dr. Immo! You are starting to try my patience!" Faith spat out. "You know Dr. Immo curiosity killed the cat. You're actually lucky that I like you enough to not kill you at this moment. And I'm sure you're well aware of my capabilities." Immo was visibly shaken by her words. Faith grinned in actuality she really did like the doctor. She would have never hurt him too badly that is. She knew the doctor was just another poor soul caught in an iron web. But Faith wasn't about to tell him that.  
  
"I.I apologize. I'm just surprised that you would know about it. There are not many who knows about the torture room."  
  
Faith's response was vehement, "I know more then you think! I know the horrors this mansions holds, the nightmares this very room produced," Faith stared at the lone metal table in the middle of the room, memories quickly running through her mind. Then she looked up to the ceiling and continued to speak, "and the evil that lurks up above." Faith lowered her head and stared at the man. "So you see Dr. Immo I know quite a bit of this place." Faith bent over and warningly whispered into Immo's ear, "And I know about its occupants and the roles they play." A chilling shiver ran down Immo's spine.  
  
"But what I don't know Dr. Immo is why Ian is in that room in the first place. Would you care to enlighten me?" Faith stood directly behind Immo her voice had calmly returned. Her hands were resting on top of his shoulders. Immo swallowed the lump in his throat then spoke, "Ian is being punished for his betrayal against Mr. Irons. He was planning on leaving."  
  
"Are you telling me that Ian was going to.to leave Irons?" Immo nodded his head. Faith sounded disbelievingly. She was rather ecstatic about Ian finally having the will to leave. But what exactly brought on this newfound courage to go against his master? This was not the behavior of a man who earlier sounded so bereft over the phone. Faith shook her head to clear her questioning thoughts. Now wasn't the time to dwell on Ian's sudden change in behavior. She released one of the apparatus on her arm and the blade stuck out from her sleeve. Immo jumped slightly from the sound. Faith laid the blade against his neck.  
  
"Get up Dr. Immo you're going to help me." Faith tugged on the back of his coat collar but the doctor didn't move. "Hel.. help you? I.I can't help you. If Irons finds out I helped Ian escape," Immo paused then said, "he'll kill me!"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous he won't kill you." Faith interjected. "Sure he'll probably slap you around but not kill you." She added nonchalantly. Faith pulled the man up to his feet but he refused to move. "How do you know he won't kill me!?" Immo exclaimed.  
  
"Because you haven't outgrown you're usefulness yet. Realize it or not you play an important role, Dr. Immo. If that weren't the case you would have been dead years ago. Kenneth Irons is not a stupid man he knows the vast medical information you hold in this," Faith tapped against his temples, "head of yours. More importantly the genetic medical information which, most likely, has taken years and lots of money to obtain. He's not about to throw all that away by killing you."  
  
Immo contemplated what Faith had said. Maybe she was right, perhaps he still had some stature left with Irons and that he wasn't at risk of losing his life. But why should he test those waters? He should just turn away and not help. Perhaps she'll just knock him out after giving the pass code and let him be. And perhaps it was all just wishful thinking. Faith could sense the conflicting war raging on inside the doctor's head.  
  
She silently sighed and sheathed the blade. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulder once again, this time giving him a reassuring squeeze and said, "I also know this Dr. Immo. You've always had a soft spot for Ian and deep down you care for him. You've made sure to take the extra care when treating Ian and in whatever you do. You consider Ian the son you've never had." Faith paused giving Immo the time to let her words sink in.  
  
"And I'm sure you've wished there was something you could do to help Ian escape this life with Irons. Am I right Dr. Immo?" He didn't speak but just nodded his head. Immo had indeed been wondering what he could to help. He'd been contemplating over the very thought earlier that night. But he didn't know what to do. "Well here is your opportunity to help Ian and perhaps in the process regain some of that humanity you've lost while associated with Irons." Faith gently pleaded, "Help me Dr. Immo?"  
  
Immo made no move and Faith almost lost hope that he wouldn't help. Without a word Immo bent down from the waist to open a drawer. Faith made no move and only unsheathed the blade. Immo paused in his movements and held out a hand. "I am only getting out the extra medical bag I keep in this desk." From behind Faith could see the black bag inside the drawer, "Hm, is that a gift for me Dr. Immo?"  
  
"Perhaps a gift for both you and Ian." Immo grabbed the bag lying it down on the desk, "I can assume you've had some medical experience?" He opened the bag and surveyed the contents. "Does this mean you are going to help?" Immo nodded his head. Faith grinned then started explaining that she had done her share of mending wounds. "Then you are going to need all of this," Immo pointed at the bag, "and maybe a little more." With permission Immo moved around the dimly lit room, the man obviously at ease in his domain. Swiftly moving here and there without bumping into anything. Opening medical cabinets, stuffing the bag with bandages and other medical supplies. While rummaging around the lab Immo made no attempt to sneak a glance to identify the person who held him captive. Lastly he moved to the freezer door and disappeared inside. He re-emerges from the freezer and closed the door. Faith immediately stood right behind him. "There's no label. What is that?" Faith looked at the vial in his hand.  
  
"It is the antidote to the poison Irons laced the cat-o-nine tails with. The same whip he used on Ian."  
  
"Poison?!" Faith stared dumbfounded at the back of Immo's head. The older man started to explain the concept of the poison and the antidote until Faith cut him off, "Please, please Dr. Immo. Spare me the medical terminology. In plain English tell me how long before Ian is healthy?" Faith held her breath. "You know that Ian Nottingham is not the normal man. He's undergone strenuous experiments to mold him into this lethal weapon."  
  
"Yes, go on."  
  
"Then you must now that with all that genetic enhancements his healing time also enhanced. Giving him the capabilities to heal faster."  
  
"You mean like Wolverine from the X-men and his mutant healing factor." Immo smirked at the comparison.  
  
"In better terms yes. Because of this Ian has never been sick, even the worst scraps and bruises tends to heal within a day and a half." Immo's voice took on a little excitement discussing over Ian's medical history. But it only helped to add to Faith's growing impatience. She began to rub the side of her temples and closed her eyes.  
  
"Doctor please get to the point."  
  
"Simply put in his current condition it will take more then just a day and a half. His wounds are serious and he's weak from the trauma inflicted upon him. He's.." He stopped mid-sentence. Immo left the medical bag and vial on the table signaling Faith to, "follow me." They walked out of the lab and they made their way to the torture room. "I think its best you see him then you'll have a better understanding."  
  
Faith waited for Immo to open the door. He punched in the appropriate numbers on the keypad. The corresponding beeping sounds echoed loudly in the empty hall. Suddenly a double beeping pronounced the acceptance of Immo's pass code. A faint pressuring hiss released the door. Immo grabbed he edge of the frame, slowly pulling back on the metal door. Faith stiffened as a blast of trepidation ran up her spine. Another apprehensive inch revealed more to the room.  
  
She knew from memory the layout of the torture room. The floor was made up of concrete but everything from the walls to the ceilings was laced with stainless steel. On the right side of the room was one of those long silver tables just like the one in Immo's lab. Flushed and nailed against the left sidewall was a large wooden post frame in the shape of an 'X', each corner had leather straps used to secure a person's wrists and ankles. Along the walls were various weapons: whips, canes, and floggers. And in the middle of the room hanging loosely from the ceilings were two lengthy chains with leather cuffs at the end.  
  
An audible gasp followed by a breathless whisper, "Oh God, Ian" escaped Faith's lips. Immo was already inside the room standing near the metal table, his head lowered. For a brief moment Faith stood near the entrance of the door. Every ounce of will power and discipline kept her rooted on the spot. It would be so easy to turn around, run down the hall, and search for Irons. To drag him down by the collar, strap him to the wooden post or better yet hang him by his wrist from the chains and beat the shit out of him. Her hands were clenched on her sides just from the very thought. The rattling sound of the chain pulled Faith out of her frenzied trance and a weak moan had escaped Ian's lips.  
  
The feverish images of Sara naked in his arms were fading away. No matter how hard he tried to hold on he wasn't strong enough to stay within the warmth and lightness of their love. Soon he was surrounded in darkness. A distant sound echoed off somewhere in the bleak void. Ian didn't know where to turn he had no sense of direction; he was lost. Soon the fog began to lift and realization settled in. The image of Sara was just that an image. He had been dreaming about her again. But somehow the dream was different. Everything about it was different. These weren't dreams concocted from the thoughts of a lonely man. It felt so real. The love was real it had to be. The way her hands caressed him, how she kissed him back, words of love he longed to hear escaping her lips. Importantly the love that reflected in those emerald eyes.  
  
The distant sound grew louder and finally reality pounced on him. Thoughts of what had happened flashed quickly in his mind. He was still stuck in the darkness and he needed light to see his way. Through the silts of his half lidded eyes Ian could fairly make out the lithe silhouette form standing in front of him. He couldn't tell who it was. With blood and sweat blurring his vision the apparition could be anyone or anything. Yet deep down Ian wanted to believe she came for him. Hoping that the blade had overwhelmed her with a vision of him. Showing her the twisted turn of events. How he'd defied against the only man who he considered a father. To a man he had remained loyal to up until the blade had chosen a new wielder. How he explained to Irons that his allegiance belonged solely to her. Not to the Witchblade but to her, to the wielder.  
  
He called; "Sara?" his voice was hoarse. "What did he say?" Faith asked while straining to hear. Ian tried again but it came out in a mere whisper.  
  
Faith stepped over the threshold and walked over to Ian. The lights around the room were lowered to a dim. Faith didn't need light to see bruises and cuts that had been inflicted upon him. But a lone soft beam of light coming from the ceiling shone brightly down around Ian. Highlighting his form like some prize on display. The odd angle of light had cast a shadow around his naked body. Mass of chocolate locks hid his face.  
  
The apparition had glided towards him from across the room. Ian could feel heat emitting from the figure. Even in this closer range he could not make out who stood before him. He tried to catch a scent but all he could detect was the strong metallic odor of blood and the foul stench of sweat. Ian tried to move his arms but the rattling sound of chains reminded him he was trapped. Leather shackles, which were attached to chains that hung from the ceiling, were wrapped around his wrist. He hung loosely from them, the cuffs biting into his flesh, his toes barely touching the cold concrete floor. He felt like his arms were about to he ripped from the sockets. The pain that hadn't existed in his dream throbbed and overwhelmed his entire body now. Finally the presence or presences he realized began to talk. But the humming and the insistent pounding in his head were making it difficult to hear.  
  
"Now you understand," Immo paused then added, "Faith?" She turned her head to look at the doctor. Faith becomes conscious of her error. She had been so taken aback by what she seen and was so concerned for Ian she had forgotten about Immo. It didn't matter now all that mattered was Ian. Faith disappointedly grinned not able to accept and believe she let her guard down. "I already knew who you were even before we left the lab." Immo interjected amusingly. "Tell me how did I give myself away doctor Immo?" Faith asked curiously.  
  
Immo raised his head; his eyes stared off trying to find the words. When he found them he held her gaze and spoke, "There are not many, a few really, whom I know that understands what goes on behind closed doors. The way you spoke of this place with such conviction, passion and with such hatred. Then there is the protective way you talked about Ian. I simply put the two together and got my answer."  
  
"I let my emotions, my feelings cloud my judgment hence lowering my guard." Faith unhappily expressed.  
  
Immo nodded his head then moved from the table and gently grabbed her chin between his fingers, "I just knew it was you. Besides we share a past. I helped usher you into this world remember?" Immo and Faith shared a small smile. Yeah they shared a past but it wasn't a strong one like how she had it with Ian. Faith knew Immo was afraid of Irons and when given the opportunity to chose between life and death the good doctor would chose life, his of course. But for the time being she wasn't worried that he was going to rush to Irons the moment he had the chance. He'll hold out for a while. Besides it was only a matter of time before Irons found out she was back.  
  
The moment had past and Faith's eyes grew cold and hard. "This was no punishment. Irons was going to kill Ian wasn't he doctor?" Immo sighed and nodded his head. Faith's jaw clenched and through gritted teeth asked, "Why did he stop?" Immo shook his head and averted his eyes. "Exhaustion. He became exhausted after a while." Faith narrowed her eyes at the thought. 'Now there's one thing I can be grateful for. Ian is alive barely because the bastard got tired.'  
  
Faith averted her attention back to Ian. She stepped closer to him and called out his name, "Ian?" She gently cupped his cheek with her right hand, "Ian can you hear me?" He leaned into her hand. "Sara?" Faith grinned when she heard his voice calling out albeit calling out the wrong name. "No it's me, Faith." Ian tried to lift his head up but couldn't. "Faith?" he whispered confusingly no doubt still under a delirium of agonizing pain. Faith cupped his chin and lifted his head until she could see his eyes. With her other hand Faith pushed aside strands of hair that were stuck against his sweated forehead and placed the loose locks behind his ear. She flinched at the large gash above his right eyebrow. The bleeding had stopped but there was blood everywhere. Blood had flowed from his nose and mouth, tainting his beard red.  
  
"Ian I'm going to get you out of here, alright?" Ian's eyes fluttered. "Faith?" his voice was still no louder then a whisper but it wasn't at weary as before. The undertone of recognition was reassuring. "Are you going to be able to walk?" Faith wondered. Ian nodded his slightly and said, "Only if you help me." Faith smiled, "Hey that's what I'm here for." Faith started to scan the room. She looked at Immo and asked, "Where are his clothes?"  
  
"They're in the lab. Do you want me to grab them?" Faith eyes shifted from Ian to Immo.  
  
"No I'll go. You stay here with Ian."  
  
"Don't go!" Ian's voice was full of concern and worry.  
  
"Ian I'll be right back. Dr. Immo is going to stay with you."  
  
"No! Let me down now." Ian jerked at the chains the metal rattling echoed in the room.  
  
"I can't let you down now. It will be easier for me to dress you like this. I'll be right back." Faith nodded at Immo and ran down the hall to the lab. She burst into the lab and quickly found his clothes and shoes neatly piled on a table. She grabbed them, the medical bag, and the vile of antidote. Just as she was about to head out the door she spotted a wheelchair in a far corner. 'That could prove useful.' She dumped the contents in her arms onto the seat and wheeled the chair back to the room.  
  
Faith pushed the chair through the entrance and wheeled it to the side for later. "Here doctor take this." Faith tossed the medical bag at Immo while she took Ian's clothes and shoes. Setting the clothes on the floor, Faith took the pants and was about to dress Ian when Immo spoke of his shoulder, "Be careful of his back." Faith narrowed her eyes in confusion. She dropped the pants to the floor and went around to glance at the damage done to Ian's back. "Son of a bitch!" Faith's mouth hung open while she stared shockingly. Ian's back was a red canvas full with lines upon lines of marred flesh. Some of the slices weren't as severe and she knew they would heal quickly. As she scanned the rest of Ian's bloody back Faith could see that there were about four or five deep lacerations that needed stitching.  
  
"He's going to need some stitching." Immo interjected stating the obvious while working on filling syringes with medication.  
  
"I can SEE that Dr. Immo." Faith answered back sarcastically. She moved back to and gathered Ian's pants off the floor, then carefully putting them on.  
  
"Do you want me to tend to those wounds now?" Immo asked while he dug into the bag searching for the appropriate instruments. "No" Faith replied then adding, "We don't have much time. I'll just have to do the stitching myself. For now I want you to wrap up his back so his clothes won't stick." Immo pulled out a roll of gauze and began to do as Faith instructed. After fastening his belt Faith began to work loosely on his shoes, not bothering to tie the laces all the way up. At the same time Immo had finished wrapping the bandage around Ian's back.  
  
Faith got up and motioned for the wheelchair, "bring that here so he has something to sit on while you lower him down." Immo pushed the chair just behind Ian. He then walked over to an instrumental panel and pressed a button. The chains rattled as it began to slowly lower Ian onto the chair. Immo pressed a button again to stop the mechanism. Ian suddenly pitched forward still a bit too weak to hold himself up. Faith quickly caught him before he fell out of the chair. She carefully eased him back mindful of his wounds.  
  
"Alright Dr. Immo administer the antidote before I finish dressing him." Faith moved to gather the rest of Ian's clothes while Immo grabbed an alcohol pad. Standing on the left side of the wheelchair Immo, bent as the waist, held a firm grip on Ian's wrist, turning it over to expose the underside of Ian's forearm. He then used the alcohol pad to swab and sterilize the small area of his skin. Immo then reached for the syringe and held it firmly in his right hand. Just an inch away from inserting the needle into Ian's arm a steel grip held him in place. Faith had reached over from the other side of the chair and grasped his wrist. Immo looked up into cold fear-some eyes. "Don't make me regret trusting you, Dr. Immo." Her voice held a dangerous undertone. Immo swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. If looks could kill Immo would have been a dead man.  
  
She released her hold and Immo inserted the needle into Ian's arm. He pushed on the syringe until the clear liquid emptied out into Ian. Immo began to swab the area again and reached back for another syringe. Before he proceeded he said, "This will help with his fever." Faith nodded and Immo continued. He gently tossed the used syringes onto the table then helped Faith dress him in one of his long sleeve shirts, followed by his black trench coat. Finally they were ready to leave. Faith glanced at her watch it was already 3:50 A.M. 'Damn' she thought she was taking too much time. They needed to hurry before anyone or worst Irons finds out she's in the mansion rescuing Ian. 


	32. Chapter thirty two

"Faith" Ian called out to her.  
  
"What is it Ian?" She knelt in front of him, gently cupping his chin so she could see his eyes. They were still glazed over but were slowly coming into focus.  
  
"Sara." He whispered.  
  
"What about her?" Faith asked.  
  
"I have to see her."  
  
Faith stared incredulously at Ian. He couldn't be serious? The man had been beaten within an inch of his life. He had wounds that needed stitching. He's in obvious pain and what does he want to do first? He wants to see Sara! Was he out of his mind? Faith turned her head towards Dr. Immo and sarcastically said, "Just what the hell did you give him?"  
  
Stupefied by her question Immo idiotically shook his head and shrug his shoulders. His mouth kept moving but no words came out. Faith shook her head and turned her attention back to Ian.  
  
"No, Ian you're hurt. You can't see her now. You can see Sara some other time, okay?" Faith said in a maternal tone. As if she was informing a child he can't go out and play because he was sick.  
  
"Faith" Ian pleaded.  
  
"No Ian!" She said more firmly.  
  
"Faith!" Ian's stern voice surprised both Faith and Immo. She looked at him then into his eyes. Those dark orbs were no longer lost with confusion but focused. The years and years of knowing Ian had been helpful. She learned how to decipher his moods just by looking into those soulful eyes of his. And she knew the look of determination when she sees one.  
  
Ian's next move was deemed unfair. His eyes soften and his brows lifted. 'Oh God no,' she thought, 'Not that anything but that.' She quickly shut her eyes but it was too late, she'd been caught. 'Damn it! I hate it when he does that lost puppy look. Those eyes should be considered illegal weapons.' She swore to herself. He then pleaded and said "Please Faith she's in danger." Ian had grabbed the hand that was resting on the armrest of the chair and gave it a hopeful squeeze. Faith could hear the concern in his voice and to her surprise a little fear as well.  
  
"He must be concerned because of the clone." Immo, who had been listening the whole time, interjected.  
  
Faith's head snapped up as she looked at Immo with disbelief. She stood up slowly from her kneeling position and said softly, "The what?" Like some predator ready to pounce onto its prey, step-by-step Faith made her way closer to Immo. He involuntarily took a step back and swallowed the lump in his throat. Her eyes narrowed on Dr. Immo, again asking, "The what?"  
  
"Didn't it strike you odd that Kenneth was so eager to kill Ian?" Faith laid a hand on Ian's shoulder reassuring herself that he was still there and indeed alive.  
  
"Answer the fucking question, doc!" Immo winced from Faith's callous demand. "The what?!"  
  
"Years ago, even before you left, I had discovered a breakthrough in medical history. I found a way to produce a human clone. A clone that would be highly improved by taking in all of the original's attributes, skills, and traits but to filter out the flaws from the first version. In better terms a perfect species." Immo took on that excitement tone again.  
  
'Produce; clone; original; better species' she was becoming quite sick listening to Immo. The hand that was on Ian's shoulder had moved to the handle bar of the wheel chair. She didn't want to hurt him when she started to squeeze her hand. She could feel that it was already turning white. She continued to listen to Immo.  
  
"When I informed Kenneth he immediately wanted me to make a clone of Ian."  
  
"Just how crazy are you?!" Faith stared disgustingly at the doctor. "First the Black Dragons, Ian, me, now this?!"  
  
"Its all in the name of science, Faith."  
  
"Science my ass! Its just another way of manipulating life," she exclaimed, "Tell me Dr. Immo exactly just how much of your original soul is left?" Faith wondered. Immo lowered his head. He was left utterly speechless by her question.  
  
"Why didn't I know about this.clone?"  
  
"Besides Kenneth and myself no one knew not even Ian. It wasn't until last night Ian had discovered the clone."  
  
"You said this clone was supposed perfect. Would take on all of Ian's characteristics and skills minus Ian's flaws of course, right?" Immo nodded.  
  
"Obviously you fucked up somewhere Dr. Immo. Or Ian wouldn't think that Det. Pezzini was in danger with this thing watching over her. Why is that?"  
  
Immo's shoulders slumped while he spoke, "In all aspects the clone far exceeds Ian's physical ability. Psychologically I don't know what he is. This clone is highly aggressive and has little control. Hence he's very dangerous. I'm afraid he'll snap sooner or later."  
  
"Did you warn Irons about this?"  
  
"Yes, I've expressed my concerns on a number of occasions. But Kenneth is adamant that he's capable of controlling this one." Immo implored.  
  
"So doctor," Faith began to advance towards Immo backing him against the wall, "you're telling me that you and that delusional Irons set a virtually out of control, highly aggressive, psychopatic assassin who's physical abilities far exceeds Ian's loose in New York?" Immo nodded his response. "Ah, I see." She said before reaching out and grabbing Immo by the throat. Immo's eyes widen with shock. Faith guided the doctor over too the loose chains and said, "Put them on." Immo hesitated. Faith painfully squeezed his neck and repeated, "Put them on Dr. Immo." This time with out hesitation he strapped the leather cuffs on. Immo held up his wrists so Faith could inspect the cuffs. Satisfied she let him go. Immo swallowed and rubbed his neck.  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Nottingham, Ian Nottingham."  
  
"What? A doctor who made a medical break through and a cultured billionaire couldn't think of an original name?" Faith snickered.  
  
"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Dr. Immo?"  
  
The doctor thought for a moment then added, "Yes there is one other thing about the clone you should know. Unlike Ian he can't be incapacitated with strobe lights."  
  
"Thank you, its good to know. Just hope that you're creation doesn't come back to haunt you or kill you." Faith grinned at the fear on Immo's face. "Good-bye Dr. Immo." With that said she knocked Immo out with a punch to the face. She moved over to the instrumental panel and pressed a button. The chains began to rattle again as the machine picked up the slack, lifting Immo up until he too hung from his wrist much how Ian had been.  
  
Faith the moved over to kneel in front of Ian, "Time to go."  
  
"To Sara?" He questioned, a little hopeful in his tone.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Faith" Ian pleaded.  
  
She took a deep breath and sighed; 'I hope this Sara, this new wielder of the Witchblade, appreciates you, Ian.' she thought but said "we both know you won't be much help to her in your condition. But I do have a plan. Will you listen?" Ian reluctantly nodded his head. "I will go and watch your Lady Sara. On one condition, since I can't leave alone like this you will be staying with a friend of mine." Ian was about to speak until Faith laid a finger to his lips and silenced any further protest.  
  
"He's a good friend and I trust him. You know I would never put you in any danger. Now either you accept or you don't." Ian thought for a moment. If he couldn't be there for Sara then he could at least place her safety into the hands of someone he trusted with his own life. Ian accepted Faith's offer.  
  
"Alright then let's get hell out of here." Faith grabbed the medical bag and wheeled Ian out of the room. She closed the door behind her. Imagining the look on Irons' face when he finds his doctor chained up instead of Ian.  
  
Faith turned the corner and down the path she had used earlier. She opened the door and they entered the darkened hallway. The only light soon gone as the door closed. They continued straight down until they arrived at the end. Immediately Faith ran her fingers along the left side of the frame. Feeling for the slit where she would use the card key to open the door. Quickly finding it she inserted the key and the door slid open. Faith scanned the area before pushing Ian out. She looked up into the night sky. She glanced at her watch again, 4:15 A.M. She knew in a few hours the darkness would lighten and the sun would be rising. Fortunately by then they would be far away from this place.  
  
She looked around again and realized the wheel chair would take them only so far. The rest of the way Ian would have to walk. Unfortunately with Ian's wounds there was no way he would be scaling walls. It only meant that they would have to leave through the front gate. Faith let the scenario run through her mind. She realized that they would have about five to ten minutes before security started swarming the area. It wasn't enough time for them to make it to the car. Faith told Ian of her plans and they made their way to the wall undetected. "Okay I'm going to move the car closer to the gate. I'll be back." Faith said coolly. She stepped back and made a run for the wall and like the first time she was easily over the stone hurdle.  
  
Despite the wounds inflicted by Irons Ian was feeling a bit better. Apparently the shot Immo had given was indeed the antidote to whatever poison Irons had used. But he was still weak and the pain was unbearable. Faith was right there was no way he would have been any help for Sara. At least for now that is. Ian was pulled out of his train of thoughts when he could hear footsteps coming from the other side of the wall and in not time Faith was back standing behind him.  
  
"Miss me?"  
  
"Always" Ian grinned. Those years apart Ian had missed Faith immensely and he was elated now that she has returned home again.  
  
"Alright I was able to park just a few feet from the gate. Now all we have to do is get out. Ready for that stroll?"  
  
Ian nodded his head and was already pushing himself up from the chair, using the armrest for support. Luckily she had already taken the medical bag with her when she moved the car. Her arms were now free to help Ian. She wove her right arm under his coat and around his waist. Mindful of his back she grabbed onto his belt. She guided his left arm over her shoulder and held on to his arm. Ian pressed his hand against the wall to help support his right side while Faith helped with his left. Surprisingly, with the help from Faith and the wall, Ian moved along the grounds rather quickly. But that didn't mean the trip didn't exert what little energy he had left. Once in a while they would stop so Ian could catch his breath and rest. At last they made it and just twenty-five feet away was freedom.  
  
"Ian you rest here for a bit I'll be back." She gently leaned him against the wall and made her way down. She surveyed the area. At the top of the gate were two white-boxed surveillance cameras. The one closest to her was positioned to look out onto the street and the farthest one was positioned to look into the grounds. About fifteen feet up from the gate near the graveled road was a small security office with only two windows and a door on the side. She knew there were only two security guards posted inside. The tricky part was how to lurk them out without rising suspicion to the security in the main office in the mansion. Knowing Ian he probably ordered them never to leave their post unless authorized from the main security staff in the mansion. Apparently a knock on the door wasn't going to help.  
  
Faith had a plan. Taking out two of her throwing knives she waited till the camera farthest from here pointed in her direction. With precision aim she threw the first knife and it shattered the glass shield and wedged itself right into the camera. She quickly moved to the small office. She then took the second one and aimed for the other camera. From the side the blade pierced right threw the box and from the little sparks she knew the camera was destroyed. Now all she had to do was wait. She heard the ringing sound of the phone and could briefly hear the conversation going on inside.  
  
"Yeah?" Guard one answered, "Okay we'll check it out."  
  
"What?! I'm up!" Guard two abruptly jerked from his sleep.  
  
"Both gate cameras ain't working. Something must be wrong with the feed. Go check it out."  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"Do you want me to tell Nottingham you were sleeping again?" The second guard had mumbled something but Faith couldn't quite understand.  
  
"Hurry you're ass up sleeping beauty."  
  
Faith moved to stand behind the door. The door was pushed opened and the second guard walked out with a flashlight. He headed towards the gate. Faith held on to the doorknob while she pulled out the stun gun from her pocket. She quickly walked around the door and was inside. Luckily the guard's back was facing her and before the guard was aware of her presence she had rendered him unconscious from the stun gun. Faith picked up one of the long metal maglight flashlights. She closed the door and waited for the second guard to return.  
  
The second guard knocked on the door while saying, "I couldn't really tell what it was but something silver is sticking out from both cameras. I think you better call up ahead and tell someone to come down." Faith turned the knob then kicked the door forward, catching the second security off guard and right in the nose. He stumbled back, his face up in the air clutching his bloody nose in his hands. "What the fuck?"  
  
"Sorry about that." Faith said just before she delivered a well-placed kick to the side of his knee. The guard howled in pain and with the heavy flashlight hit him behind the head knocking him out. She dragged the guard back inside the office and placed him next to his partner. She took their guns, took the clips and ejected any bullets that were left in the chamber. She pocketed the ammo and tossed the empty guns in the trash bin by the door. Then she pressed the button that opened the gate. Faith quickly ran out and grabbed Ian who had managed to walk up along the wall near the gate.  
  
"You're getting rusty. I could hear the commotion from back there."  
  
"Don't give me that look Ian. Its been a while okay. Besides I never said this was going to be a stealthy rescue."  
  
Faith had managed to get Ian in the car before the grounds started swarming with guards. They were already speeding down the street and disappeared into the night before anyone could see the car. Faith fished for the cell phone in the glove compartment and dialed the familiar number.  
  
"So who is this friend of yours?" Ian asked weakly from the passenger seat.  
  
Before Faith could answer Ian the ringing from the on the other end stopped and someone had picked up. "Talismanic. This better be good?"  
  
"Now Gabriel is that a way to treat you favorite and number one customer?"  
  
"Faith?"  
  
"That's right the one and only."  
  
"Sweet! Where are you?"  
  
"I just got in town." Faith looked over at Ian, "had a little family business. So were you busy?"  
  
"Yeah I was actually sleeping."  
  
"Please you're an insomniac you never sleep." Faith could hear the light chuckle on the other end.  
  
"So what can I do for my number one customer?"  
  
"Funny you should ask." Faith smiled as she zoomed down the street on her way to Gabriel's place. 


	33. Chapter thirty three

~*~  
  
It hadn't taken Sara long to fall back asleep after her abrupt wake up a call earlier that evening. After cursing at the blade, wondering what its motives were, Sara moved about her empty apartment. Stopping to stand in front of her fire escape window. She narrowed her eyes at the dark smudge on the windowpane. She shook her head and waved it aside as dirt. She stood there for more then a half an hour pondering over the already fading dream. Sara shut her eyes, trying in vain to hold on to that last image of her dream but it slipped back into the dark recesses of her mind. The dream may be gone but those intimate feelings that were produced from it still wracked her body. With a heavy sigh she opened her eyes and headed back to bed. She glanced at her clock, 3:30 A.M., a groan escaping her lips. She only had two hours of sleep before she really had to be up and get ready for work.  
  
Sara lifted up the blanket and slipped underneath. She was rather hopeful that the blade wasn't going to give her another dream. She closed her eyes and the moment her head hit the pillow the blade glowed brightly on her wrist, quickly pulling her back into the dream. Back into the darkened void of forgotten memories. Everything around was shrouded in black with her stuck in the middle. No other light was evident besides the scarlet radiance of the blade. "Hello?" Sara called out testing out her voice. Again she called out, "Any one here?"  
  
"Hello Sara" a voiced called out to her. Sara turned to face the source and watched as the figure walked from the shadow, it grew as it moved closer to her. Sara's eyes widen as she stared back into familiar emerald eyes. The woman had her face. Sara's eyes began to roam over the woman. She was covered in a long dark green velvet robe. Auburn locks freely extend down her back.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
The woman smiled and clasped her hands in front. The sleeve of the robe shifted and it barely covered the familiar filigree that adorned her right wrist. Sara inadvertently touched her own wrist making sure the blade was still there and it was. "We are the same, Sara." The woman said. Sara blinked back at the vague and rather cryptic answer. She shook her head and began to rub her temples.  
  
"Please can we skip the riddles and have a normal, straight conversation?" she pleaded.  
  
"Nothing is every clear and 'straight' when it comes to the Llan An Cailleach."  
  
"The what?" Sara's brain was so fried she couldn't remember where she had heard that familiar name.  
  
The woman smirked, "the Witch's glove." Sara looked down at the bracelet. "Its been called many different things through many different times. You call it the Witchblade." Sara raised her eyes to stare at the woman. Her eyes narrowed and it finally hit her. "You're Cathain aren't you?" The woman acknowledged Sara's answer by nodding her head.  
  
"Where are we? What am I doing her? Why am I here, Cathain?" Sara empathized by spreading out her arms.  
  
"You are locked in memories"  
  
"Whose memories?"  
  
"Ours. Wielders of the past. You were brought here, Sara, to seek answers to your questions, to learn and better understand a relationship you have yet to discover but so unwillingly and readily deny. You are here to witness and understand the choices we make aren't always based on what is best. Open your heart and listen. Take in what you'll learn."  
  
"What are you talking about? What relationship?" Sara was becoming annoyed.  
  
Cathain evaded Sara's questions. She slowly walked up to Sara, her Witchblade clad arm extended out in front of her. "Take my hand, Sara." Cathain calmly spoke. 'Where have I heard that before?' Sara thought sarcastically. "Soon all will be revealed. But you must first take my hand." Reluctantly Sara raised her own arm but didn't place her hand into Cathain's outstretched one. Cathain's arm lurched forward, her hand grasping the blade on Sara's wrist. Sara had done the same in return. The two blades began to glow brightly. Making the once dark room grow an eerie red. Sara could feel herself being pulled into something. She stared into Cathain's eyes. "You will simply relive the past through our eyes. You will see, hear, and feel all that goes around you. But your actions, your words are not your own. Remember Sara these are memories of the past. You can not change what's already been done." Within a blink of any eye Sara was once again transported into another room.  
  
She lifted her head scanning the area around her. Driving away the bitter chill of night Sara could see a roaring fire blazing in a large stone hearth. A tall throne like wooden chair was placed in front. Sara narrowed her eyes to see what was lying on the seat it was a helmet. A rather unique looking one at that. The front of the helmet was designed into a face. It was Cathain's. She continued to let her eyes travel along the chair. A large broadsword was leaning against the armrest of the chair. At the foot of the chair were pieces of armor. Sara lifted her head higher noticing clothes and more armor were scattered everywhere covering a large gray pelted rug.  
  
She was suddenly interrupted when something shifted beneath her. To Sara's surprise she found herself half sprawled on top of a body. But not just any body a very well built naked man. Her eyes began to roam over the hulk of masculine form. She caught site of the familiar faint line of hair disappearing underneath the blanket. The rest of his lower body was regrettably covered. She let her eyes travel back up over the well-formed abs and flat stomach. As she continued she realized that her right arm was slung over his lightly furred chest. She felt the soft sparse of hair under her hand where it rested. The strong, steady beating of his heart could be felt beneath her palm.  
  
Sara's slow ascended assessment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a sleepy voice. She looked up surprised to see the familiar face. 'Ian?' Sara thought. She looked closer. No it wasn't the Ian she knew. His black beard was shaggy and not as well kempt as Ian's. His dark curly locks were longer and there were no hints of those wisps of blonde steaks. His nose was slightly crooked no doubt broken from a fight or two. The weary lines around his face made him appear older. 'Perhaps from surviving countless of battles,' she thought remembering the large broadsword near the chair.  
  
But the one thing that remained constant between this man and the Ian she knew were those same russet eyes. Those chocolate orbs reflected such deep admiration, unbridled passion, and most importantly love. Sara couldn't tear away from his gaze even if she had wanted to. Would this happen to her if the man was her Ian? Would she be as enthralled and captivated like she is at this moment? Even now as she looked into the man's eyes she had to wonder.  
  
Were such feeling ever reflected in Ian's eyes as well? Then again how could she know? Ian had rarely, even on occasion, held much eye contact with her. His head bowed down and eyes always averted. But could it be possible the reasons behind his actions were to simply hide how he felt? Ian was a mystery but at the same time an open book. She just needed to really look. But she couldn't recall the last time he held his gaze for more then thirty seconds. 'No wait,' Sara thought remembering her last encounter with Ian. His eyes weren't filled with love but instead with complete anguish. It was there after she had unleashed her fury out on him.  
  
Sara's thoughts were soon pushed aside when a hand that was lazily resting on her hip lowered to massage her bottom. She closed her eyes relishing in the caress. The feel of his rough callous hand sent shivers down her spine. It was then she realized that she too was naked.  
  
"Are you cold, Cathain?" He shifted to his side to face her, pulling her closer, flushed against his firm body. He pulled the blanket higher on their naked form. Underneath the covers her right leg was securely held between his two strong ones. His left arm curled around her waist. Locking her into his protective embrace. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feel of just snuggling into the arms of this man. She moaned her contentment and without thinking she kissed his chest. 'What the hell am I doing?!' Sara thought then she remembered what Cathain had said.  
  
'.You will see, hear, and feel all that goes around you. But your actions, your words are not your own.'  
  
It was like some twisted journey that Sara had no choice but to sit shotgun while Cathain sat in the driver's seat and steered. Taking away the one thing Sara always had: control. She was only able to look out the window and take in the scenery. Though given the particular 'scenery' she wasn't complaining at all. But what was the use of this ride she was still unsure. Sara felt helpless and it scared her that she had no control. 


	34. Chapter thirty four

"There is that better my love?" He whispered into her hair.  
  
'This is far from better!' Sara thought but instead she moaned an, "Mmhmm." His chest heaved up and down as a sigh of relief escaped his lips.  
  
"What was that for, Ewan?" It still felt a bit surreal that Sara was able to share these intimate moments and not have any control. Sara listened to Cathain's words and at the same time savoring the soft strokes of his fingertips grazing her bare back. Ewan stopped his caresses when she pulled slightly back. She propped up her elbow and rested her head on her hand, her gaze locking with his. She had to stifle a gasp at how overpower his eyes were. They were bursting with love and happiness. Cathain raised her other hand to cover his cheek. Her fingers began to stroke through soft and silky hairs of his beard. Ewan closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Sara could have sworn she heard the man purr.  
  
A soft chuckle escaped her lips before she asked, "Are you going to tell me?"  
  
Opposed to Sara's choice to continue stroking Ewan's beard, Cathain removed her hand from his cheek and laid it down between their bodies, resting lightly on the bed. With another sigh Ewan opened his eyes and said, "I must be dreaming."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
Ewan smiled at her and Sara swore she could feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her heart doing flips. "Because it is only in my dreams where I am in this room, sharing your bed, with you in my arms." She tore her gaze away from his, averting and hiding the blush that was forming on her face. Without looking up she said, "And what if this was a dream?"  
  
"Then I shall pity the poor fool who dares to wake me up in the morning." She couldn't help but grin at the thought. Ewan cupped her chin and gently lifted her face. When she held his gaze again Ewan continued to speak, "If this was a dream and if I had the chance I would sleep forever just to be in your arms." The sincerity in his words and the love in his eyes took her breath away. Without saying a word she buried her hand into his hair and pulled him down into a kiss.  
  
It was chaste kiss at first, mouths meeting in a soft touch. Until she used the tip of her tongue to part his lips, wanting to gain entrance into the warmth of his mouth. She was meet with the tip of his tongue. She sighed as he drew her into his mouth. She may have been the one to instigate the kiss but he was slowly taking control. And for once she didn't care. All she cared about was the wonderful sensations he was producing. Ewan tighten his arm around her waist, pulling her closer until there was nothing left between them.  
  
The kiss ended as they drew apart, panting. Their chest heaved up and down as they both gathered for air. Ewan laid his forehead against hers. He opened his eyes to look at Cathain but hers were still close. He lifted his hand away from her waist to brush aside the hair from her face, placing it behind her ear. She still hadn't opened her eyes. Ewan took the moment to study her, fingers gently roaming over her face. The arch of her eyebrow, down the slope of her petite nose, and over those soft lips. He smiled when she kissed his fingers as they passed her mouth. He stared in awe of her beauty and the fact that he was here with her. For years he had longed to be more then just a protector and friend. He had wanted to be her lover. This was the moment he had been waiting for.  
  
He took in a deep breath then let out the words he longed to tell her since the first time he had laid eyes on her.  
  
"I..I love you Cathain." Ewan held his breath. For a moment he was worried that Cathain didn't hear him. Her eyes were still closed. Was she asleep? No, because he felt rather then hear her gasp at his confession.  
  
Finally opening her eyes she stared deeply into those soulful hazel eyes of his. Sara was taken aback by the love that shone in those eyes. She could feel her heart, no, Cathain's heart swell up inside. It began to beat so fast she was afraid it was going to just suddenly stop. She couldn't believe such reactions could be created by those three spoken words. The hand that was buried in his hair traveled down to nestle against his bearded cheek. Sara waited for Cathain to answer back, to tell Ewan she loved him as well. But Sara was surprised what was said next.  
  
"I.I know, Ewan. I care for you as well."  
  
Nothing else was said. No words of returned love. Nothing. Ewan pulled his head back slightly. He let out the breath he was holding in a defeated sigh. His shoulders slumped and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He blinked several times and Sara was able to catch the familiar pain in his eyes. Ewan reached up to grab her hand that was resting on his cheek, turned his face and kissed her palm. He forced a small smile and said, "Rest now my lady. It's getting late."  
  
Ewan pulled Cathain with him as he shifted onto his back. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, her hand over his heart. Neither one slept instead both were wallowing in their own thoughts. 'She cares but not enough to love me,' Ewan thought. He laid there recalling how his search leaded him here to Connemera. To the Warrior Goddess, Cathain. How a chance meeting with an old man and a destiny he wasn't aware off had changed his life.  
  
He grew up alone, an orphan at the tender age of eleven. Ewan had no recollection of his parents, if he had any brothers or sisters, or any family that would take him. The only possession of his past were the clothes on his back and a ring that had been too big for him to wear, hanging from a long piece of tattered old twine that was tied around his neck. Ewan bounced from place to place, trying to survive. No one loved him, no one wanted him, and no one cared. That was until an old man with stringy blonde hair and eyes, that were able to pierce into ones soul, found him unconscious, nearly half dead. Starved and cold from sleeping outside in the chilling nights. The old man took him in and nursed him back to health.  
  
During the second night Ewan awoke, panting and drenched in sweat. He had another one of those odd dreams again. This time it was about a woman clad in armor. Her face was hidden, as always, behind the helm of her helmet. On her right wrist was a piece of jewelry with a red stone in the middle. The stone glowed brightly and suddenly the innocent bracelet turned into sword.  
  
"What did you see, boy?" Ewan turned his head and found the old man sitting in a chair staring at a ring. Ewan patted his chest and looked down. His twined necklace along with his ring was gone. "Give it here! Its mine!" He yelled from the bed. If he weren't so weak he would have jumped from the bed and grabbed it. The old man got up from his chair, walked over to the Ewan and sat on the edge of the bed. The old man held out his hand, the ring on his palm.  
  
Ewan reached out to snatch the ring from the old man's hand but he wasn't fast enough. The older man had closed his fingers around the jewelry, securing in his fist. "I will give back your ring. But first tell me what did you see?" Ewan eyed the old man. Not sure if he could trust him. "Don't worry I give you my word you will get your ring back after you tell me." Ewan sighed and began to explain his dream. About the woman and the bracelet that turned into a weapon. True to his words the old man gave Ewan his ring.  
  
"How long have you had these dreams, boy?" The old man continued to sit on the edge of the bed.  
  
"My name is Ewan not boy!" A small smile formed on the old man's lips. He nodded and in response, "My apologizes young Ewan. I meant no disrespect. My name is Lazar." Lazar's smile grew wider, softening his weathered appearance. "Now tell me. How long have you been having these dreams, Ewan?" Ewan placed the necklace around his neck, still clutching the ring in his hand. He looked up to stare at Lazar, his eyes held a far away look as he tried to recall the first time he had the dreams.  
  
"I really don't remember when the dreams started. They just came to me. It's always the same. The warrior woman with green eyes and the weapon she wields with the red stone in the middle. Then there are times when I see another warrior, a knight in armor. He stands in the shadows; always watching the woman warrior, always near by." Ewan blinked and shook his head as if coming out of a trance. Lazar listened and took in everything Ewan had said.  
  
"Where did you get the ring?"  
  
"I didn't steal it if that's what you were thinking." Ewan squeezed his hand around the ring, securing it in his fist.  
  
"I made no accusations, Ewan. I am just curious." Ewan lowered his head. Once again forced to remember that he was alone in this world. No family to take care or love him.  
  
"I don't know who gave it to me for I have no family. It's the only possession I have to a past I can't remember. I've always had it and I've never been apart from it."  
  
Lazar didn't speak right away. He tilted his head, scrutinizing Ewan with his narrowed gaze. Lazar could hear soft clicking sounds as the pieces of a puzzle began to fit together in his head. The dreams about the wielder and the blade. The ring he carried around his neck. But how he came to be an orphan was the only thing that would remain a mystery.  
  
Ewan squirmed lightly under Lazar's scrutiny, pulling the covers higher, clutching it to his chest. Finally Lazar spoke, "Your dreams have meaning, Ewan. You are having visions. Visions of the next wielder of the blade." Ewan's brows furrowed as he listened to Lazar. "Visions? Are you mad, Lazar?" Lazar chuckled at the boy's question. "I see it will take some time to convince you."  
  
"Convince me of what?"  
  
"The woman in your vision is the wielder, an important woman. The weapon she wields, the Llan An Cailleach, holds a great power. And the knight in the shadows is you, young Ewan."  
  
"Me?!" Ewan's eyes widen in disbelief, "That can't be me? I'm.I'm just a.a boy." He lowered his head, "I am of no import. I'm nothing special."  
  
"You are special my son." Ewan's head snapped up and he blinked several times. Obviously taken aback from the endearment of such a simple word, son. It was the first time anyone had said or referred to him in that manner. Surprisingly it was a great feeling Ewan never once had the privilege to experience, he couldn't help but grin. Seeing that Lazar had Ewan's attention he continued to speak. "You have a destiny now, Ewan. You will play an important role in the wielder's life. You will be her protector and her guide. That ring that hangs around your neck is a symbol of that destiny." Ewan removed the ring from around his neck and examined the ornate object. He rubbed the small blue stone that was clutched in the claws of a dragon. As he stared into it he could have sworn it swirled and glowed. But it happened so fast he wasn't sure what he saw was real.  
  
"But why me, Lazar?"  
  
"You have been chosen, Ewan. As to why?" Lazar shook his head, "That I cannot tell you. Whither you believe or shun what I say; you must make a choice. Will you accept your destiny or runaway? But do not answer me now." Ewan fingered the ring, touching the stone one last time before placing it back around his neck. "Come it is getting late and you need your rest. Sleep now, young Ewan. You have much to think about in the morning." And for once in his life, like being called son, Lazar tucked him into bed. Ewan watched as the old man made his way back into his chair by the fire. It wasn't long before Ewan fell asleep. His dreams filled with a green eyed warrior, the blade, and him. 


	35. Chapter thirty five

Ewan had been up before the early morning sunrise. He sat on the bed contemplating over what Lazar had told him. At first he thought the old man was mad, insane but as he slept the dreams had taken on a new meaning. Giving him an insight, a new feeling he never felt before. As if he belonged beside the woman, the wielder of the blade. He had a purpose now, a destiny. He wasn't about to let that slip through his fingers. And for some reason there was a strong pull, a sort of overwhelming bond he had with the wielder. Ewan didn't know what it was but perhaps in time he would find out this strange connection they had to each other. During his thoughts Ewan had become anxious and couldn't wait to tell Lazar. In the still early morning darkness, Lazar watched as Ewan reflected his newfound acceptance. He smiled seeing the young boy so eager and willing.  
  
The rays from the early morning sun crept into the small meager shelter that Lazar used as a home. The two occupants of the room acknowledge that a new day has dawned upon them as the final rise of the sun washed away last night's darkness and perhaps Ewan's lonely past. The moment the opportunity arose Ewan gave Lazar his decision. With a knowing nod Lazar began to make breakfast. Over the next few days they had discussed what was to come next.  
  
For months Lazar had been Ewan's teacher. Surprisingly Ewan was an apt pupil and it didn't take him long to learn. The boy had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Teaching him how to read, write, and the bare essentials that would help him survive life. Then there were the teachings about the blade. How the blade came to be in this existence. Explaining to him that only a chosen woman may wear and wield the omnipotent weapon. Explained his role as the protector, the wielder knight and how he will help the wielder bear the weight of her responsibilities. Guiding her with the knowledge he had gained from Lazar. Lazar had also explained to Ewan only the true wielder will learn the blade's secrets. But most importantly to be aware of those who seek to control what cannot be controlled. To protect the wielder from her enemies, pretenders as Lazar called them.  
  
"These pretenders will do what must be done to gain control over the blade and it's wielder. You must prevent this, Ewan. There will be times where the wielder will be blinded to what is around her. You will be her eyes." Ewan nodded his head, accepting what Lazar had told him.  
  
Books and Lazar's teaching about the blade could only take Ewan so far. It was time for a different type of schooling for Ewan to partake. "Why can't you teach me, Lazar?" Ewan questioned curiously. Lazar shook his head and smirked at the idea of teaching Ewan how to become a warrior. "Because young Ewan this is one lesson I am powerless to teach you." Lazar's eyes narrowed, sensing Ewan's growing apprehension. Something was bothering Ewan and if Lazar didn't push for an explanation the boy would only keep it inside. "What's wrong Ewan?"  
  
"What if I fail, Lazar? What if I am not worthy enough to serve the wielder? What if this new teacher won't like me?" Lazar should have realized Ewan's uneasiness. The boy had grown up alone with no one to care for him and in return he had no one to care for. Everything was new to him. Up until recently Lazar was the only family he had. Ewan was a quiet boy and had hardly socialized with anyone but the old man. Even as they ventured out into the nearby village Ewan had kept to himself, away from the crowds.  
  
Lazar walked up to Ewan and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You must have faith in yourself, Ewan. Without it you will fail the wielder and yourself. Is this what you want?" Ewan's head snapped up and said, "No!" Lazar gave Ewan's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Then believe in your destiny and in what you were chosen to do. You are a lot stronger then you think, Ewan. You will see." Lazar gave Ewan a lopsided smile and turned to pack up for their long journey. "What about this new.teacher?" Lazar stopped what he was doing and turned to Ewan.  
  
"Kael is a good man, a fine warrior. He will teach you all that he knows." Lazar's smile widen and a light chuckle escaped his lips, "Kael is a passionate man. He will test your strengths not just physically but mentally and emotionally. He will push you, Ewan but never give in. You survive his tests then you will gain his respect in thus his friendship. In time I would not be surprise if you yourself far exceeded Kael's abilities. Now that is something I would like to see. Yes?" Lazar smiled. Ewan smiled in return and nodded his head. "Good! Now let us finish packing. We have a long journey ahead." They had finished packing by nightfall and by morning were already on their way.  
  
After a month of traveling their journey finally came to an end. In the distance Ewan was able to see a burly man with long flaming red hair and a beard to match, standing in the doorway. His large muscular frame completely blocked the entrance to his home. Ewan eyed the giant as they neared closer, until they stood before the intimidating man. "Good day to you Kael." Lazar spoke while Ewan stood beside him. Kael moved from the doorway and walked closer to his guests. The man's towering six feet two inches loomed over Ewan. Ewan had to raise his head to look up to the large man. "Good day to you too, Lazar. So," Kael turned his penetrating blue eyes towards Ewan. His deep and rich voice echoed around them, "is this the boy you've been telling me about?"  
  
"My name is not boy!" Ewan couldn't understand why he spoke up against the giant but being referred to as 'boy' was upsetting to him. Kael crossed his burly arms across his chest and his eyes narrowed on Ewan. Lazar watched as Kael tried to frighten Ewan. He grinned as Ewan mimicked Kael's stance, his head raised higher to stare straight into icy blue eyes. Inside Ewan was shaking with fear. He had butterflies in his stomach and his heartbeat pounded against his chest. But on the outside he managed to hold himself together, unruffled. Lazar's words echoed in his mind.  
  
.. 'He will push you, but never give in.'..  
  
"Then why don't you tell me your name," with nostrils flared and a sneer adorning his lips, Kael bent at the waist and lowered his head until they were face to face, "BOY!" Ewan bravely stared back at Kael and even went as far as move his face closer. "My name is Ewan not boy!" The sneer on Kael's face soon turned into a smirk. "All right," he nodded his head in approval, "Ewan." Kael straightens himself up and turned his attention to Lazar. "Courageous this one, Lazar." Kael eyed Ewan's small frame. "Though he is on the scrawny side," Kael began to rub his bearded chin, "but not to worry he'll shape up nicely with all the training I'll have him in." Kael continued to stare at Ewan while his mind worked up on the sessions they'll soon start. "Come inside. You've had a long journey and I'm sure you both must be tired. I'll have my daughter Fiona make your beds then you may rest."  
  
Lazar and Ewan followed behind into the house. Inside they found Fiona, Kael's only seven-year-old daughter sitting by the fire. She had the same long red hair like her father and green eyes. Just like her mother who, which Ewan later found out, unfortunately had died while Fiona was still a baby. Lazar and Kael sat near the fire discussing Ewan's training. Ewan who had chose to rest laid in one of the beds Fiona had made. For some reason as Ewan stared at Fiona a sense of foreboding over came him. He couldn't understand why. Perhaps he would discuss this with Lazar some other time. But for now he was tired and he needed the rest. As he closed his eyes the green eyed warrior appeared in his dreams again. Her presence in his dreams had pushed the dreaded feeling aside and he slept peacefully. 


	36. Chapter thirty six

The next morning Ewan awoke to find Lazar standing near the fireplace, gazing intently at the flames. The rustling sounds of sheets pulled Lazar out of his reverie. He looked up and smiled at Ewan. He walked over and said, "Morning young Ewan. How was your dream?" It had become a daily ritual. Ewan would wake in the morning and Lazar would ask about his dreams. And his answer was always the same, "She was there wielding the blade and I am always in the shadows, watching over her." But Lazar could sense something was wrong, the uncertainty lingered in his eyes. Ewan needed to be careful, his emotions were intense and they reflected in his eyes. Which made him too easy to read.  
  
"What's bothering you, Ewan?" The boy lowered his eyes unsure if he should tell Lazar about the apprehension he sensed with Fiona. How could he tell him he was troubled over a seven-year-old girl he had just met? As if reading his mind Lazar added, "Do not be afraid to tell me anything, young Ewan." The boy nodded his head and quickly searched the room. "Kael and Fiona are not here. They left for the village. Now tell me what is bothering you." Lazar sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Ewan took a deep breath and began explaining.  
  
"What does this mean, Lazar?" Ewan looked up, hopeful that the old man held the answers.  
  
"Is she in your dreams?"  
  
"No"  
  
"Then for now push this feeling aside." Ewan's eyes widen in disbelief, his mouth hung open. "But." Lazar held up his hand, halting any protest. "Your training starts tomorrow, you must be focused and ready. You cannot dwell on things that have yet to come. I am not saying to forget. People will come into our lives, some with good intentions and some with not. We can never truly know the roles they play in our lives but they are there. Use this knowledge to keep on eye on Fiona. For if she does have an important role then you will be prepared." Ewan sat still on his bed as Lazar's words sank in. Ewan looked up and grinned.  
  
"Good. Let your dreams be your guide, Ewan." Lazar gave Ewan's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I thought you were my guide, Lazar?" Ewan smiled up at the old man, the sense of dread over Fiona no longer occupied his mind. The older man chuckled as he got up from the bed and walked over to the cot. On top was Lazar's bag, filled and already packed. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and walked back to Ewan. 'He's abandoning me when I need him most?' Ewan thought, as his smile faded, and eyes already brimming with tears. Over time he had grown attached to Lazar and it was getting hard to accept he was leaving.  
  
"You are never abandoned, young Ewan. You knew this day would come when I had to leave." Ewan sniffed; using the back of his hand he brusquely wiped the tears away. Lazar's own eyes began to water. He too had grown attached to the young protector. He cleared his throat and continued to speak, "Besides you don't need an old man hanging around while you train to become a great warrior." It had been the first time that Lazar's words were not reassuring or comforting. Ewan understood and he could not be selfish by keeping Lazar here with him. He had to let go. Ewan was not the only one that needed Lazar. Soon when the wielder is chosen she will need him too. Lazar will watch over her until Ewan is ready to take his place by her side as her protector.  
  
"I..I.don't want you to go Lazar," Ewan paused to take a deep breath and exhaled, "but I know you must. She will need you when the time comes." Lazar beamed with pride. There were not many who, at any age, were willing to make such sacrifices. And all in the name of destiny. This boy truly surprised him. Ewan got up from bed and followed Lazar out.  
  
They walked up to the dirt road and parted ways. But before leaving Lazar turned to Ewan and said, "Remember Ewan you must have faith. Never doubt yourself. Look into yourself here," Lazar placed a finger over Ewan's chest, above his heart. He then moved his hand to cup the boy's cheek and gave it a loving pat. Lazar turned around and left Ewan standing there alone.  
  
Ewan spotted a steep hill with a large tree to his right that over looked the main road. He quickly ran up the hill, pushing his little legs as fast as he could. By the time he reached the top he was out of breath and Lazar was nearly gone from site. Tears began to roll down his face. He bent over and leaned heavily on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. The ring slipped from under his shirt, swaying slightly as it dangled from the worn out twinge.  
  
He grasped the ring in his hand and he felt it pulsating in his palm. He straightens up and watched Lazar's retreating back. Before disappearing from Ewan's site Lazar stopped and turned around. "I'll be near; I am always near." Lazar's voice rang in Ewan's mind. The boy smiled and waved. "Good-bye Lazar," Ewan whispered into the air. In the distance Lazar flashed his own lopsided smile.  
  
Lazar turned and was soon gone. Ewan stood on that spot, ring clutched in his hand, for who knows how long. It was until a large hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his trance. "Don't worry Ewan he'll be back one day." Kael looked down at the boy then out into the horizon. From the corner of his eyes, Kael could see Ewan nodding his head. With a smile he lightly squeezed Ewan's shoulder. "Come help me unload the wagon. Then I'll show you around. We will start your training tomorrow." Ewan turned around and grinned at the large man. He raced down the hill with ease and in no time was near the wagon helping Fiona unload.  
  
Kael shook his head as he carefully walked down the hill. He couldn't understand how the boy got up the hill in the first place. It was steep and high. Even he had had a hard time climbing up and Fiona never made an attempt. Lazar was right the boy was special and he already conquered one task of this training without even knowing it. Kael shook his head, 'training him will be interesting.' He made it to the wagon and was surprised that half of the load was already done. 


	37. Chapter thirty seven

Training Ewan was indeed interesting. Like with any training the first few weeks were tough and hard. There was not a day Ewan's body was not covered with bruises or where his muscles never ached from the strenuous workout Kael had put him through. There were days where Ewan had doubted he would survive another session. On those days, he would take a hold of his ring and let Lazar's words run though his mind. Eventually Ewan had adapted, endured, and even excelled Kael's expectation. Ewan's insatiable thirst for knowledge and the hunger to be the best had helped him during his training. The years had worn on. Ewan had grown into a strapping young man.  
  
By the age of seventeen, he had sprouted to be as tall as Kael is. His body no longer resembled that gawky frame of adolescence that most boys his age would have. With all the training, Kael had been putting him through along with the added physical chores he was responsible for, Ewan's body had been defined one of a warrior. He not as burly as Kael but still he was strong and sleek.  
  
His hair had grown longer, just passing the middle of his back. Even the little growth of facial hair was starting to show. Ewan looked into the mirror and began inspecting his face. Feeling the faint coarse stubble under his palm and fingers as he rubbed his cheeks and chin. "What are you doing, Ewan?" Kael had come up behind him. Ewan spun around when he heard Kael's deep voice. He redden from embarrassment after being caught looking at himself in the mirror.  
  
Ewan had always been a modest person. Never once thought of himself as handsome or attractive. He felt plain in comparison to the other boys in the village. Even with those occasions where some of the girls and yes-even women from the village would try to prove him wrong by making their advances. Still he did not feel anything at all and in return, the women received nothing for their effort, just a simple smile and a nod. He was just plain Ewan in his eyes.  
  
"I was just, uh," For once the boy was lost for words. Ewan pointed to the mirror as he tried to explain, "Just...looking." Kael grinned and began stroking his own long fiery beard. Teasing Ewan because he knew what the boy was doing. He had done it himself at his age. "Just looking, huh?" Ewan nodded his head and lowered his eyes. He could feel the blush on his face burning. Kael chuckled lightly and said, "My father once told me a beard is the symbol of a boy turning into a man. With this change he carries an infinite wisdom and strength." Ewan rubbed his face a bit disappointed with what little he had. "Your father sounded very wise, Kael." Kael roared with laughter.  
  
"What? Didn't your father's words hold any truth?" Ewan wondered.  
  
"Aye it did. That the men in my family were hairy. I had a full growth by the time I was your age. Eh, my father, bless his soul, was a blathering drunkard Ewan. What wisdom did he carry? How to fall gracefully in the mud after drinking so much mead?" Kael continued to laugh.  
  
"But you're a wise man, Kael. Your father's must words hold some truth." Ewan added.  
  
Kael shook his head and laid a hand on Ewan's shoulder. "There is more to a man then just having hair on his face. Wisdom does not come with a growth of a beard. I have experienced life, learned, lived, and in time I have become the man you know. Like all things, Ewan, you must let them come naturally. Do not force things to happen. Be patient. In the end the rewards will speak for themselves." Kael took the hand that was resting on Ewan's shoulder and gently patted his face.  
  
Kael narrowed his eyes and stared at Ewan. He could see in the young man's eyes that there was more. "I have never seen you so aware of you appearance before, Ewan. Why the sudden interest in a beard, eh?" Ewan lowered his eyes. Kael sensed there was something deeply bothering the boy. He ushered Ewan to sit in the chair near the fire while he occupied the other. "What's really bothering you, Ewan?" Kael leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, hands clasp in front. Ewan took a deep breath and as he exhaled said, "Kellan."  
  
Kael's brows furrowed, "Kellan?" Ewan nodded his head, sparing a glance at Kael. The older man shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh. That Kellan boy had it in for Ewan since the boy arrived six years ago. The boy had always gone out of his way to make things difficult for Ewan. In Kael's eyes, the boy was an arrogant, pompous, brat who lacked discipline. Nevertheless, with all the trouble Kellan caused, Ewan simply ignored the bully. This in return only infuriated Kellan. Kael had a feeling that the dislike for Ewan was in fact a guise for the jealousy in his heart. Kellan felt threaten because Ewan was everything he had ever wanted to be.  
  
In the beginning, Ewan had tired in vain to make friends with Kellan and the other children in the village. He tried to fit in but they never truly accepted, they cast him aside as an outsider. Ewan soon realized he was different from most people here in the village. In addition, sometimes being different was undesirable. Ewan had soon given up trying to fit in and kept to himself. Instead, he concentrated on his training, his studies, and on the wielder.  
  
"What has Kellan done this time?" Kael asked.  
  
Ewan began to recall their encounter. Ewan had accompanied Kael into the village earlier that day. They gathered the needed supplies and were about to head out but someone had called Kael attention. "Ewan finish up here. I won't be long." Ewan nodded his head and continued to finish loading the wagon. He was just about done when he heard familiar voices behind him.  
  
"Only real men have beards." Ewan snorted and shook his head at the arrogant comment. "What do you think Ewan?" Ewan sighed. Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned around and stared at Kellan. Kellan was not as tall as Ewan falling by just a few feet. However, he was a bit more muscular then Ewan. His blonde hair flowed down his back, stopping just above his waist. Icy blues eyes stared back into brown ones. A smirk crossed Kellan's lips; he brought up a hand to rub against the growth of hair on his face. Kellan turned to his two companions. "I forgot Ewan here isn't a man. He's just a bared faced boy." Kellan turned his attention back to Ewan, "You should go home and stay there until you've grown something. " Kellan began to laugh along with his two friends. "It takes more then a few hairs to make a man." Ewan's witty retort abruptly stopped the fits of laughter. Kellan, flanked by his two friends, moved closer. With a smirk on his lips, Ewan stood his ground as they advanced.  
  
"And what would you know about being a man? You don't even have a tuath." Ewan's smirk immediately faded and a flash of pain reflected in his eyes. Kellan caught the glint of pain and continued. "An orphan with nothing. The only family you ever had was the old man that brought you here. And even he abandoned you. And Kael only took you in cause he owed a favor to that old man." Kellan lowered his head, his eyes roaming over Ewan, "You may dress like us, you may act like us, but you will never be one of us. You will always be an outcast with no past and no family."  
  
Kellan took a step back, readying himself for an attack. Ewan's eyes flashed with anger, his nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and his hands rolled into fists. Ewan had been ready to pounce but Kael's deep voice stopped him from even taking a step. "Come along Ewan. We have much work to do back home." Ewan did not respond right away. "Ewan?!" Kael's voice grew louder. Ewan knew getting into a fight with Kellan would only insult Kael. Ewan had too much respect for the man. Therefore, he turned his back at Kellan's grin and mounted the wagon. 


	38. Chapter thirty eight

"Was that what you two were arguing about?" Kael asked. Ewan nodded turning his eyes to gaze into the fire. "Would you have fought him if I hadn't stopped you?" Ewan could still feel the anger coursing through his body. How he stood there brimming with rage. How close he came to losing what little thread of control he had on his anger. Ready to unleash his frustration and hatred out on Kellan. Ewan looked down at his hands, inside were the faint crescent imprints of is fingernails imbedded into his palm. Ewan let out a long sigh as he realized that yes he would have fought Kellan if Kael had not been there.  
  
"Ewan, you know better then to let Kellan get to you. You've done well enough to ignore him before." Ewan looked up at Kael. There was no mistaking the pain in those eyes. "It was different this time, Kael." Ewan averted his eyes to the floor. Most of what Kellan had said was true. Kael leaned over to place a hand around Ewan's neck, tugging lightly until the young man looked and locked his gaze with his. "Do not let Kellan's words bother you, Ewan. They were just words. You have family here with Fiona, me, and Lazar. You know I love you as if you were my own son, my own blood." Ewan grinned.  
  
Kael gave an affectionate squeeze before letting go. Ewan got up and stared down at the man who had been the closet Ewan had to a father. It meant a lot to hear Kael express his feelings that way. That Kael considers him as a son he never had and that he was indeed a part of his small family. Ewan never had a doubt he knew his place here. Sadly, it was all mere words. Kellan was right he did not belong here. He had always felt out of place, an outcast. He was not sure where he belonged. Kael could see the struggle raging on inside the young man.  
  
"But I am not of your blood, Kael. I am not of anyone's blood. All that I have left of my past is this ring." Ewan held up the ring that hung around his neck. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful. I am honored that you took and accepted me into your life." Ewan paused trying to find the right words to express the emptiness he felt. " I...I just don't feel I belong here and you know it as much as I do." Kael reluctantly nodded his head. He was blessed to have grown up with a family and then later having a family of his own. He could not begin to understand or know what Ewan was going through. The boy had grown up truly alone and to make things worst he hand no memory of a past.  
  
The door of the house suddenly opened and Fiona walked in. Beaming as she spotted Ewan near the fireplace. She had grown quite much in the past six years. Kael always said that Fiona was the spitting image of her mother when she was thirteen. She was slender, tall, and beautiful. They both watched as Fiona close the door behind her and walked towards them, hands behind her back. As she moved closer, Fiona's smile faded into a shy smirk.  
  
Kael watched Fiona approach Ewan. There were no mistaking Fiona's feelings for Ewan. He had that same look of love towards Fiona's mother when they were younger. However, Kael could see that Ewan did not return the feeling. He had always considered Fiona as a sister and it never went beyond that. It was no secret that some of the females in the village had their eyes set on Ewan. None of them seemed to have sparked any interest in the young man's eyes. At first Kael wondered if the boy had an interest in girls at all. Some men his age were already fathering children. God knows when the opportunity arose; Kael had immediately indulged in his desires. They never discussed it before and Kael never bothered to push the subject.  
  
It was until one night while they sat in front of the fire, something they always done together after a long day of training, Ewan spoke out unexpectedly. "How do you know when you're in love with someone, Kael?" The question caught him off guard for a moment. He stared at Ewan, who's gaze never faltered from the fire, his hand clutching the ring around his neck. His mouth began to move up and down but there were no words. It was a shame that Lazar was not here, Kael would have told him to ask the old man. Unfortunately, Lazar was not here and Ewan had asked him. Kael stumbled over the words as he tried to explain what one feels when they are in love.  
  
He couldn't understand why it was so hard to explain. It would have been easier if Ewan asked him to explain the many different ways of disabling your enemy with your bare hands. Ewan could see that the subject of love was difficult for Kael. "Where you in love with your wife, Kael." Kael beamed and the subject of love was not so hard now. "Yes I loved her very much. I still do and I always will until I die." Kael's harden features soften as he recalled the love of his life.  
  
"What does it feel like?" Ewan asked as held on to his ring.  
  
"It is difficult to explain, Ewan. But I'll try my best." Kael began telling Ewan his experience with his own beloved. Ewan sat there listening, letting things sink in. As always it did not take Ewan long to understand. "I would have done anything for her. She was everything to me." Ewan could sense the sadness in Kael's voice. He got up and gave Kael a reassuring pat on the back. "Thank you, Kael. I know it was difficult for you to share this with me." Kael nodded his head. "Do you, uh, need me to tell you how people, uh," Kael stammered a bit, "express how they feel?" Ewan blushed and shook his head. "That I know. I, uh, happened to cross a couple out in the forest one evening." Kael began to laugh seeing Ewan's face burning with embarrassment. Deep down he was grateful he did not have to explain the physical aspects. Nevertheless, there was one advice Ewan needed to know. "Ewan just remember do not confuse love with lust." Ewan heeded to Kael's advice.  
  
"So who is this person you are in love with? Is it someone from the village?" Kael's curiosity now piqued.  
  
Ewan's smile broadens as he rubbed the ring. "Its no one you know. She's not from the village." Kael let out a small sigh; relieved to hear it was a girl. "Oh, then who is this girl that's captured your heart?" Kael lightly teased. "She is the woman of my dreams." Ewan's voice took on an enchanted tone as he described her to Kael. Ewan closed his eyes to see her standing there. "There are no words that would describe her beauty. Her hair the color of auburn, her creamy skin, and eyes as green as the sea. Physically, no one compares to her. She's strong yet gentle." Kael smiled at the hitch in Ewan's voice. "She has a warrior's spirit: stubborn and brave; which in turn conceals her vulnerability. Her will is strong." Ewan opened his eyes and stared directly into Kael's eyes. "She is the one. The one I will live and die for."  
  
Kael smiled, "Well Ewan I don't think you needed me to tell you about love. It seems to me that you already know." Ewan beamed. "Is she also the one you are waiting for?" The younger man smiled shyly at the insinuation. It was true he was saving himself for the wielder. A life of celibacy. It was not hard for him to starve off his lust for the flesh. For no one in the village held his interest unlike the green eyed wielder. Ewan had always looked forward to his dreams about her. "She will be my first, my only, my all, Kael." Kael nodded his head. A new sense of respect had formed as he listened to Ewan. It showed he had great discipline and a strong belief in his destiny. In addition, the love he had for this mysterious woman.  
  
"Here Ewan I picked these for you." Fiona's voice pulled Kael out of his thoughts. She had presented a handful of flowers she had picked earlier that day. His little girl's heart was going to be broken. He knew Ewan wasn't at fault. Things had just happened. Fiona is too young to realize and understand that Ewan's heart already belonged to someone else. Perhaps in time, Fiona's infatuation with Ewan will pass and will find someone else when she gets older. For now, Kael sadly watched the exchange.  
  
Ewan had yet to recover from the throes of emotional pain. Though Fiona's gesture was sweet, he could not bring himself to accept them. He looked down at the girl in front of him. Even after six years, the feeling was still there nagging him in the back of his mind. In time, they had become friends but nothing more. Ewan neither said nor showed that he felt anything beyond friendship. He spent most of his time training or alone. Ewan did not want to hurt Fiona but he still could not accept her gift. He looked over at Kael expressing his apology with his eyes and Kael nodded, understanding.  
  
"Thank you, Fiona." Ewan whispered. He lowered his head and walked out of the house without taking the flowers. Fiona turned to stare at the closed door. She was about to chase after him, wanting an explanation why he refused her, when her father's commanding voice stopped her. "Fiona! Let him be." Fiona turned tear-glazed eyes. "But papa why won't he." Kael got up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugging her to his side. "Ewan has a lot on his mind. Just let him be. All right?" Fiona wrapped her arms around her father, hugging him back. Her eyes still stared at the closed door.  
  
At the top of the steep hill, Ewan sat against the large tree trunk, watching the sun slowly descend over the horizon. He closed his eyes and lifted his face against the orange rays of light. Trying to capture what little warmth there were left from the sun before it disappeared and the chill of the night arrived. With his eyes, still closed images of the beautiful wielder's face ran through his mind. Easing the unsettling feelings that Kellan had invoked earlier. The wielder, whom he has yet to meet, had always made him feel better. It was funny that a person from his dreams was the one responsible for chasing away all the pain he had felt.  
  
Ewan felt rather then see the sun vanish behind the horizon. When finally he opened his eyes the sky had turned darker and the night was getting colder. Ewan leaned heavily back against the tree trunk. He began to examine the lands from the top of the hill. To the right was the house and to his left he could see the main road. He remembered watching Lazar walk down that road, leaving him for the wielder.  
  
. 'He abandoned you'.  
  
For a moment, Ewan believed Kellan. That Lazar had abandoned him and that Kael only took him in because of Lazar.  
  
. 'You are never abandoned'.  
  
Lazar's voice rang in his mind and heart. Reminding him to have faith and believe in himself. Ewan sighed and whispered into the chilly night, "I miss you, Lazar."  
  
. 'I'll be near. I'm always near'.  
  
Ewan grinned at the sound of Lazar's voice. He did not bother looking around for the source. He knows Lazar was not there, physically that is. Nevertheless, the old man's presence was always around. Ewan reached up untie the old twine that hung around his neck. He took out the silver ring and examined the ring between his fingers. The small blue stone swirled slightly and the glow faded away in the blink of an eye. He was not sure what had just happened. Ewan blinked several times and shook his head. Instead of placing the ring back on the old twine, he tried it on ever finger. He slipped the ring onto his right forefinger. It was still a bit loose so he placed it on his thumb instead. It was not a perfect fit but it was better then having it hang around his neck.  
  
After slipping, the ring on Ewan felt different. He could not quite place it but he felt calmer. The feelings from his encounter with Kellan and his talk with Kael were not as painful as before. In the distance, he could hear Kael call out to him. No one bothered him while he was up here. It was his sanctuary, an escape from everything and everyone. Besides the steep incline of the hill made it difficult for others to climb. It was the perfect place for him. Ewan got up and looked out into the horizon on last time. He smiled into the night air. Soon he would be leaving this land and out into the world to fulfill his destiny. 


	39. Chapter thirty nine

Lazar watched from a distance as the two men fought against each other. The clash of steel rang in the air and the flicker of silver shined in the sunlight. They both looked evenly matched, neither one gaining advantage over the other. That was until the older of the two began to taunt and mock the younger one.  
  
"Is that all you got, boy?" The taunting had obviously worked. Sounds of metal against metal grew louder with ever blow. Instead of the rays of light that reflected off shiny steel, sparks began to fly. The younger man had taken advantage, driving the older man back, back with each strike. Lazar smiled as he watched the masterful way the younger man managed his weapon. Soon enough after disarming his opponent of his weapon, knocking him onto his back, the younger man move to tower over the defeated figure, the tip of his sword held steadily against the older man's neck. He smiled wicked down at the man and said, "My name is Ewan not boy." The sounds of laughter and hands clapping in the distance caught both men by surprise. Ewan turned his head and was ecstatic to see whom it was.  
  
"LAZAR!" Ewan yelled out giving Kael the opportunity to back control of the situation. Without time to think Ewan felt is sword pushed to the side and a large foot connecting against his stomach, reeling him backwards, gasping for air. Kael got up and retrieved his sword off the ground. He moved towards Ewan, still doubled over after the surprised blow to the midsection, and began to advance on him. Ewan vainly attempted to block every strike but finally Kael managed to knock out Ewan's sword and onto his back. Ironically, the roles were reverse now.  
  
The tip of the sword dangerous hovered over Ewan's neck. "Never lose your focus, Ewan. Your enemies will take advantage and you will end up dead." Kael sternly admonished. Ewan closed his eyes and nodded his head a bit embarrassed over the lack of discipline. He heard someone kneel beside his head and then felt light tapping on his forehead. With a silent sigh, he stared into Lazar's eyes. "Learn from your mistakes, yes?" Ewan nodded. The familiar lopsided smile formed on Lazar's lips and he nodded his head slightly. Sheathing his sword, Kael leaned down and offered his hand. Ewan gratefully accepted and gracefully stood up. He sheathed his practice sword and dusted off the dirty from his clothes. All three gathered their things and headed back to the house.  
  
After settling in, they sat around the fire. Before asking about what has happened in the past eleven years, Lazar began to scan the room. He was surprised to find Fiona missing. It was getting dark and he was sure she would be home fixing supper let alone being here when they arrived. Seeing Lazar's curious gaze Kael added, "Fiona is gone, Lazar." The older man turned to look questionably at Kael. He could see the sadness in the man's blue eyes. Lazar's gaze then turned to Ewan, who had lowered his head and averted his eyes. "What happened to Fiona?" Lazar finally asked after a brief moment of silence.  
  
"Its my fault she's gone." Ewan softly said from his bowed head.  
  
"No Ewan it is not your fault. It is mine." Kael let out a heavy sigh. Kael began to explain what had happened a year ago with Fiona. His eyes glazed over with tears as he remembered that painful day.  
  
Kael had just returned from the village, in his arm was the gift he had purchased for Fiona. Today was her seventeenth birthday and he wanted to get something special for her. Though he knew it would pale in comparison to what she really wanted or more specifically, whom she wanted. He had tried over the years explaining to his only daughter that Ewan was in love with someone else. That no one would be able to change that. That she deserved better and to move on. Kael knew a few boys in the village that had grown quite fond of her. Even that Kellan boy was in love with her. However, he would prefer her to stay away from Kellan.  
  
Nevertheless, no words would falter her love for Ewan. Over the years, it had instead grown stronger. Kael could not help but watch and hope that she could finally see for herself that Ewan only cared for her as a sister and nothing more. Upon his arrival, Kael had seen Ewan enter the house with Fiona following close behind. He dismounted from his horse and quietly made his way to the door. It was partly opened but he did not enter immediately. He could hear and see them inside, quietly he watched.  
  
"Fiona please stop" Ewan stood near the fire and turned to face her.  
  
"Its that witch you dream about, isn't it?!" Fiona's voice grew annoyed as she mentioned about the woman Ewan was supposedly in love with. "She must be a witch. How else could it be possible that you are in love with her? A woman you have never met and only see you in your dreams. She has you under some magical thrall." Fiona moved to capture Ewan's face in her hands. When he did not move from her touch, she continued. "But I can break those bonds, Ewan. She does not love you. For I am the one that truly loves you. I am the one who has been there for you not her." Fiona tried to reason. She titled her head forward, rising on her toes. "I am the only one that loves you." She whispered just before brushing her lips against his. She opened her eyes and pulled back when Ewan did not respond to her kiss.  
  
Ewan's face remained impassive but his eyes held sorrow and regret. He did not want to hurt Fiona's feelings but there was no other way around it. He reached up and gently grabbed her wrist, tugging her hands from his faces. "I'm sorry Fiona. Please understand that I don't love you in that way." Ewan regretfully whispered. "In what way do you love me, Ewan?" Fiona's lower lip began to tremble, tears were rolling down her face. "You and Kael are the only family I know. I love Kael as if he were my own father and you as if you were my."  
  
"Sister!" Fiona spat out when the realization finally hit her. Ewan thought of her as a sibling of some sort. Just a younger sister, nothing more. She looked at him as he nodded his head yes. "How could you think of me as a sister?! I am more to you then that!" Her anger quickly taking over she quickly wrenches her wrists from his hold. Ewan lowered his head, averting her gaze. Fiona balled her hands into fist and began beating them against Ewan's chest. He did not bother defending himself. "She doesn't deserve your love, I do!" She stopped pounding on his chest. With her right hand, she slapped him hard across the face. She raised her hand again to deliver another blow when a large hand encircled her wrist.  
  
Fiona looked up to see her father standing there. "Fiona that is enough." Kael's voice lacked his usual firm tone. Her brows furrowed and she began to sob against her father's chest. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. Hoping that maybe he could absorb all the pain she felt. Kael looked to Ewan, his head still bowed. Fiona's sobs subsided, she glanced up at her father and asked, "Can't you make him love me, papa?" Fiona asked hopefully. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Fiona I can't do that. His heart is his own to give and he has given it to someone else. You have to understand that." Fiona's mouth hung open as she listened to Kael. She was sure her father was going to come to her aid as he had done before. But he didn't and now he chose him, in turn that witch.  
  
Fiona broke free from her father's embrace and backed away from him. She stared at him dumbfounded. "I shouldn't be the one who should understand. He is the one that refuses my love for a witch. He is the one that has broken my heart! Will you do nothing to defend you daughter's honor?" Kael raised his arms as he moved closer to his daughter. Fiona took another step back. Kael stopped and said, "Fiona I know this hurts you but Ewan is not at fault here. You knew how he felt towards you. I had tried to tell you many times but you would not listen to me. You just have to finally accept this."  
  
"What is there to accept? You're defending him over me!" The scowl on her face soon replaced the look of utter sadness. "How could you? How could you chose him over your own flesh and blood?" Fiona's tears stopped flowing and in place were the reflection of pure hatred in her eyes. "YOU!" She turned her gaze to Ewan. "This is all your fault! If you had not shown up this wouldn't have happened. Your witch has cast a spell over MY father and now he chose to love you over me!" Kael tried to reason with Fiona. Ewan watched as Fiona ignored her father's words and advanced on him. She raised her hand again for another strike and Kael stopped her. "I said that is enough Fiona!" Kael wrapped his other arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground. He moved back, almost losing his balance as Fiona struggled against him.  
  
She managed to free her wrist from his hand and began to push against the arm around her waist. Kael let her go and she turned on him. Pushing against his chest and yelling, "I hate you!" Kael's eyes widen in shock from her harsh words. "Fiona you don't mean that. You're just angry and." Kael stopped in mid-sentence; Fiona shook her head, her chest heaving up and down. She lifted her chin and stared coldly into her father's eyes. "I hate you," Kael reached for her again but she jerked away, stepping backwards.  
  
She looked from her father then over to Ewan. "I hate you both!" She turned around and started for the door, not once looking back. She stopped when Ewan whispered, "I'm sorry Fiona." She looked over her shoulder and glared at Ewan. Her voice was cold, "You will be," her green eyes flared with maliciousness. She headed out the door and mounted her horse. Kael raced after her but it was too late. It was the last time they had seen her.  
  
"I don't know how long I stood on that spot, staring out into the empty road. It started raining well into the night but I did not move. I had hoped she would return home. She never did. Ewan practically had to drag me back inside. I had not slept or eaten for days. My little girl never came back." Kael's voice cracked and the tears had not shed that night freely rolled down his face. "Then days later I found out that she and Kellan had left the village together. Never to be seen or heard from again." Lazar nodded his head regretfully. The lost of his only blood had taken its toll. Instead of the spirited burly man, that Lazar knew. Here was a thin man, lacking in spirit. His red hair and beard had more streaks of gray then normal. His face was weathered and pale. The man was suffering from his own broken heart. 


	40. Chapter forty

Lazar spared a glance at Ewan. Ewan nodded his head, as he understood that Lazar needed some time with Kael alone. He got up and headed for the door. Just before he stepped outside, he informed them where he was going to be. Both men nodded and Ewan left them alone.  
  
"I do not see where you are at fault, Kael." Lazar added.  
  
"It is my fault. I should have raised her differently. I spoiled her, Lazar. Given her everything she wanted or needed." Kael used the back of his hand to wipe away his tears. "Then what she wanted next was not mine to give." He shook his head. "She could not understand or accept that. Stubborn just like her mother." Kael smiled weakly. Lazar got up from his chair and walked over to Kael, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There is no fault in the way you raised your daughter. You did your best, Kael. She chose her path not you. You cannot blame yourself for this." Lazar gave a reassuring squeeze to the man's shoulder. Kael understood but was still a bit unwilling to accept that he was not responsible in one way or another. Lazar sat back down while Kael stood up, staring into the fire.  
  
"You're here for Ewan aren't you?" Kael threw over his shoulder, not bothering to see Lazar nodding his head. Kael knew this day was going to come. It would have been easier if he had not grown attached and considered Ewan as a son. He smiled into the flame remembering their first encounter.  
  
.. "My name is not boy!"..  
  
"Is he ready?" Lazar's words pulled Kael out of his thoughts. He turned around and smiled proudly. "He is more then ready. The lad has far exceeded all of expectations, Lazar. There is nothing more I can teach him." Lazar could sense a bit of loss coming from Kael. "Are you ready to give him up, Kael?" The large man laughed amusingly. "Yes, Ewan has a way of growing on you. I love him as if he was my own blood. I will miss him but he does not belong here. He needs to move and so will I." Lazar listened as Kael proudly spoke of his son. "Then we will be leaving in two days time."  
  
"Shall I call Ewan in? He's probably atop that hill." Lazar shook his head and headed for the door. "That won't be necessary I will go to him." Kael was about to protest, telling Lazar the conditions of that hill and the difficulty of the climb for such an old man. His decision taken away when Lazar disappeared outside and the door closed. Kael grinned and headed for his room.  
  
Ewan sat against the tree trunk, absently rubbing the ring on his forefinger. He looked down at the quiescent blue stone. So many times, he thought he had seen it glow and swirl but it happened so quickly he was not sure if it was real. Ewan looked back into the night sky just in time to see two falling stars. He was so caught up in his thought he did not hear Lazar approach him. Lazar cleared his throat and Ewan leaped up to his feet. A bit surprised to see him here. "How did you," Ewan waved the question away, "never mind."  
  
Lazar sat down and leaned against the tree. He patted the empty ground next to him, signaling Ewan to join him. Lazar watched Ewan as he sat down. He took notice how much the young boy had grown so much in just eleven years. Lazar corrected himself, Ewan was no longer a boy but a man now. His hair had grown longer, stopping just above the waist. He had even grown a beard; it was not as long as Kael's own beard. Lazar grinned remembering Kael's comment about Ewan's scrawny state when they had first arrived. How he would change that when they started training. Ewan was indeed bigger now, taller and muscular. He was not as big as Kael use to be but Lazar knew Ewan had great physical strength. It was obvious when he had witnessed the sword fight between Ewan and Kael. How easily Ewan took advantage over the fight.  
  
Ewan looked up and stared at Lazar curiously. However there were no changes to those golden eyes, it remained the same. Ewan may have had grown physically into a man, but in those eyes were those of a lost eleven year old boy. Though he far surpassed in his training as a warrior, Ewan was still unaccustomed to what goes on beyond this land, beyond Kael's training. His time to serve the wielder is getting closer. It would be another year before he served the wielder. Ewan still needed to experience life. That's why Lazar was here now, to be his guide once again. It was time for Ewan to move on. Before they could move on Lazar wanted to know what been going while he was gone.  
  
"So tell me Ewan what has happened in my absence?" Ewan averted his eyes from Lazar and looked up into the night sky. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "there is not much to tell you, Lazar. Training with Kael has taken up most of my time here. The only time I would venture out to the village is when I accompanied Kael or Fiona. Most of the time, I come up here to think and remember all that you have thought me about the wielder and my place by her side. Nothing more." Lazar nodded his head.  
  
"I believe there is more to tell, Ewan. There were times where I sensed such great anguish and pain from you. Why?" Ewan glanced towards Lazar. He quickly turned away from the man's penetrating gaze, lowering his head he stared at the ground. "There were times where I felt." Ewan tried to search for the words, "out of place and alone."  
  
"There is more, Ewan." Lazar stated. Ewan knew then to hold anything back from the old man. It was useless to try to hide anything from Lazar. The man always finds out one way or another. Ewan nodded his head as he explained about his encounter with Kellan years ago. How Kellan's words had hurt and how he almost believed in them.  
  
"Then I came up here. Remembered the reasons why you had to leave, why I was left here, my destiny, and her." Ewan chuckled "I even heard you're voice that night." Lazar smiled, "It is because I spoke to you, Ewan." Lazar laughed at the confused look on Ewan's face. He leaned over, poked at Ewan's chest above the heart, and then tapped the side of his head. "I told you I was near, always." Ewan smiled and nodded his head. Since then, he never once doubted his place.  
  
"Now, tell me about your dreams." Ewan chuckled. He should have known Lazar would ask about them. It was always the first thing he would ask him when he woke in the morning. His answer was always the same then, "She was there wielding the blade and I am always in the shadows, watching over her." Now along with time, the dreams had changed. The meanings of his dreams were different. How could he express the difference to Lazar? His chance was taken away when Lazar spoke, "You've grown quite fond of the wielder haven't you, Ewan?" He nodded his head. "I'm in love with her, Lazar."  
  
"There's something else?" Lazar questioned.  
  
"Is it wrong of me to be in love with someone I haven't met? And not just anyone she's wielder of the blade. One I am supposed to guide and protect with my life. I fear that my feelings for her will blind my judgment hence put her life in jeopardy. Is it wrong for me to be in love with her? I shouldn't be in love with her."  
  
"But you are?"  
  
"Yes" Ewan softly sighed. "Can't you help me Lazar? My expertise in this is very, very, limited."  
  
Lazar smiled, "Even the simplest matters such as love is a true mystery to me. I cannot tell you what one does when it comes to the matters of the heart. Only you can decide on that, Ewan. In addition, I do not think it is wrong to love the wielder. She is a woman of course. She will need someone who will accept and truly understand who and what she is. She is a special woman who will need someone just as special. One who will be in love with her? Not as a wielder of the blade but as a woman. There will be pretenders who will impose their love for her. Nevertheless, their love is not genuine. It is only a guise, for they lust after the power they seek. You must protect her from those as well."  
  
Ewan stared up into the sky "There will be a pretender in her life. He seeks her out only for the power of the blade. In return, he teaches her the art of love, shares her bed, and has her heart. In the end, he will betray her. This too is what I have dreamt. Moreover, it has been a painful one at that. Is there nothing I can do to spare her that pain?" Lazar shook his head.  
  
"All you can do is to be there for her. Tell me Ewan are you in love with the woman or the wielder?" 


	41. Chapter forty one

"The woman and the wielder are the same person. One does not exist without the other. How is it possible to love either one?"  
  
"It is possible. Nevertheless, that does not answer my question, Ewan. I once told you to let your dreams be your guide. Tell me has those same dreams been guiding your heart? Could it be possible that you've fallen in love with an illusion?"  
  
Ewan sat there listening to Lazar, letting his words sink in. Could it be that he simply loved the image of the wielder and what she represented? He existed because the blade did. He was alive because the blade needed him to protect the wielder. He had a destiny, a purpose to live because of the blade. Was his love genuine or was it a guise for gratitude? Could he be worst than a pretender? Was he, at all, in love with the woman that wielded the powerful weapon?  
  
As he closed his eyes, he pictured both Fiona and the woman, who has been filling his dreams since he was little boy, standing side by side. A red glint caught Ewan's attention. He looked down, only then realizing that the bracelet adorned Fiona's wrist. He stared from one woman to the other. Fiona was now the wielder of the blade. The other just a woman. Somewhere in the distance, a voice told him to chose.  
  
He turned to face Fiona first. Shouldn't he go to her? She was the wielder, one that he needed to protect. He stared at her, though Ewan felt nothing towards Fiona. His legs made no attempt at moving and he found that he did not want to. He then turned to the other woman. He stared deeply into those familiar emerald eyes. It did not take long for Ewan to decide. He practically ran up to her. Ewan reached out to cup her face between his hands. In return, her arms wound around his waist. They drew closer to each other, tightening their embrace. Afraid that if either one let up on their hold the other would disappear. Ewan held on to her for as long as he could before opening his eyes. "I am grateful the blade chose me to protect its wielder and I will serve It to the best of my abilities. However, it does not hold my heart. She does; she always has, and I believe she always will." Ewan said over this shoulder.  
  
"What if the blade abandons her? Its been known to abandon its wielder at her darkest hour. Who will you choose then?"  
  
Ewan turned around, stared down at Lazar, his gaze dark, and focused. "Yes, the blade has been known to abandon its wielder. I will not. With or without the blade I will stand by her side until I draw my last breath. My allegiance and my love is hers not the blade."  
  
"And what if she does not return your love? What would happen if she fell in love with someone else? Then what, Ewan?"  
  
Visions of the other man in her life ran through Ewan's mind. Painfully remembering the love reflected in those green eyes of hers. He knew it was possible that the wielder would not want him. However, it was too depressing to think about and so he had always pushed the thoughts aside. However, he needed to face the realization that there could be a possibility of an unrequited love, his. Unfortunately, this was a possibility he had to face alone.  
  
"I love her, Lazar. Nothing will change that. If she does not feel the same way towards me but to another," Ewan paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Then," He cleared his throat, trying in vain to hide the fear and pain, "I will step aside and enter the shadows. Where I will continue to watch and protect her. I may not have the honor of her love but it will be an honor to serve her. I just want her to be happy." Tears began to form. Ewan lowered his eyes hiding them from Lazar. Just thinking about it was difficult. However, he was going to remain strong enough, if not for himself then for her.  
  
Lazar could tell that the idea of the wielder not wanting him was painful. However, they both needed to know if Ewan was capable of fulfilling his destiny even with a broken heart. Ewan looked up and Lazar could see the determination to serve the wielder set in the young man's eyes. Lazar sadly smiled he just hope it would not have to come to that. There was no use in dealing with 'What if's'. They needed to concentrate on the present. They had much to do. They would be setting out into the world in two days. Ewan's journey was about to begin.  
  
"Come we have much to prepare." Lazar said as he motioned Ewan closer. "We leave in two days." He held out his arms. Ewan grinned as he grasps both arms and easily hoisted Lazar to his feet. Ewan shook his head as he heard a soft grunt escape the old man's lips. 'How Lazar managed to climb up this difficult hill but still needed help from me to get him back on his feet is beyond my understanding.' Ewan thought. Though he knew, Lazar was different in every aspect. Ewan learned early on nothing was what it seemed and that included Lazar. Ewan and Lazar slowly trekked down the hill.  
  
"We leave in two days? What about Kael? Will he be joining us in our journey?" Ewan asked a bit hopeful.  
  
Shaggy blonde locks bounced from side to side as Lazar shook his head. "No Ewan he will not be joining us." Ewan frowned at the thought of leaving Kael. Lazar placed a reassuring hand on Ewan's shoulder. "I know you worry about Kael but he is a grown man, Ewan. He is capable of taking care of himself."  
  
"I know. Its just this past year has been so hard on Kael. You have noticed the changes. He's not the same."  
  
Lazar nodded his head, "Yes I've noticed the changes. The lost of his daughter has taken its toll on him. He's also lost a wife but he's survived and he will this time."  
  
"I know it's just that." Ewan sighed, "I feel like I'm abandoning him."  
  
"You are not abandoning me, Ewan." Both men looked over to see Kael walking towards them. Ewan hadn't noticed how close they were to the house. Seeing that the two need some time alone, Lazar decided to retire for the evening. "I believe its time for this old man to get some rest. I bid the both of you a good-night." He waved a hand at them and headed inside.  
  
"Sleep well, Lazar"  
  
"Good-night, Lazar"  
  
"Now what is this nonsense of you abandoning me, hm?" Kael asked amusingly, brows drawn up.  
  
"You know I'll be leaving with Lazar in two days, right?" Kael nodded his head, "yes"  
  
"Why don't you come with us, Kael?" Ewan asked eagerly. His eyes widen in anticipation. "I'm too old to be traveling to far off places. I've already had my adventures." The older man shook his head no, "I cannot go with you, Ewan." The younger man lowered his head in disappointment. Kael placed a hand behind Ewan's neck, lightly shaking him, pulling him out of his sadden state. Kael bowed his head hoping to catch Ewan's eyes.  
  
"This is not my time, it's yours. My place is here but yours," Kael beamed as he looked around, "Yours is out there somewhere not here. Go on, follow your destiny, and find that woman you've been raving about." Kael wiggled his eyebrows up and down, while flashing a wicked grin. Ewan smiled shyly. "Don't forsake all your training because of me. Do not stay here because of me, Ewan. I will be all right don't worry. Its time you move on." Ewan looked up form his bowed head.  
  
"I just don't want to leave you here.alone. If only Fiona hadn't." Ewan let his sentence trail off. A flash of pain reflected in Kael's blue eyes.  
  
"Fiona is gone and her leaving has hurt me greatly. Until she returns home, there is nothing you or I can do about it. I will just continue to mourn the lost of my daughter. I will move on and in time, the pain will ease. Don't use my loneliness as an excuse to stay here." Ewan's head shot up. "I know you're afraid to leave. Unsure of what to expect, afraid that you may fail, yes?" Ewan nodded his head slightly. Kael smiled; he felt the same way when he had left home. Fearful of the world because he did not know what to expect. Afraid that his skills were not good enough to survive. Afraid that he would have to return home and be a failure in his father's eyes. He finally faced his fears, learned from his mistakes, and survived. And he knew Ewan would do the same.  
  
"You will go out there and find your place. Perhaps your place is by your lady's side." Ewan smiled. "But you can't be by her side and here at the same time. Go and move on, Ewan. Go with Lazar he will teach you things I could not. And here take this with you." Kael held out his arm. In his hand was an object covered in a brown cloth. Ewan took it from Kael and began to uncover what was underneath.  
  
Ewan's eyes widen as he the held the broadsword in his hand. The craftsmanship was nothing like he had ever seen. He slowly pulled the sword out of its scabbard, and the steel gleamed in the moonlight. He held the sword in both hands, testing the weight. He then grasped the hilt and began to slice through the cold air. A light swooshing sound was heard with each swing. Ewan couldn't understand it but he felt that the sword was made just for him. "Where did you get this, Kael? Its beautiful." Ewan stared at it in awe.  
  
"I've had that for sometime now. An old merchant gave that to me after I had helped him with a bunch of thieves. It was a year after Fiona was born. I was on my way home when I spotted this old man in trouble. In return for saving him, he offered that sword. He said to me, "This is for your son. He will need this when he gets older." I told him that I only had a daughter and that my wife had passed. He still insisted that I take it and give it to my son. He placed it in my hands and while I was inspecting it, he disappeared. I thought of trying to sell it but I could not part with it for some reason. Until now that is."  
  
Ewan replaced the sword back into the scabbard. "Did you see his face?" Ewan asked as he inspected the hilt. His eyes widen when he noticed the unique design etched into the grip. Two interlocking circles. The sign of the blade. He reached out to trace the design with his fingers, the ring on his right forefinger began to swirl.  
  
"I never saw his face. He kept his hood up the whole time." Kael said but he had his suspicions. "Any way its yours, Ewan."  
  
"Kael I can't take this.."  
  
"The old man said to give it to my son. That is what I am doing. It is obvious that it belongs to you. Its getting late I'm going to bed." Kael patted Ewan's shoulder and turned towards the house. Kael stopped at the door and said, "Good-night, Ewan."  
  
"Thank you and good-night, father." Ewan smiled.  
  
Kael beamed with pride. "Don't stay out here too long." He added before disappearing into the house. Kael grinned as he shook his head. He was going to miss that boy. As he moved towards his room, he noticed Lazar sitting by the fire. Kael walked over to him. "That night it was you. You were that old man I saved. The one who gave me that sword?" Lazar looked up innocently. "I don't know what you are talking about Kael." Kael picked up Lazar's cape. "Don't play dumb with me old man. You were wearing this same sorry excuse for a cape that night."  
  
"That cape is still good." Lazar exclaimed. Kael found a hole and poked his finger through until it came out the other end. "What harm is one hole?" Kael raised his eyebrows as he found another hole and inserted another finger. Kael wagged his finger for added dramatic effects. "Well it kept me warm." Kael began to search for more. "And you're point is, Kael?" He tossed the tattered cape back towards Lazar. "You need a new cape." Kael started for his room but stopped half way. "Thank you, Lazar." The old man turned his head, "for what?"  
  
"For giving me a son." Kael beamed. He headed towards his room and closed the door. Lazar grinned and turned back to the fire. 


	42. Chapter forty two

The last two days were quickly up and Ewan found himself finally saying good-bye to Kael and to the one place he knew as home. It was a heartfelt departure filled with sadness and a bit of happiness too. However it was the last time Ewan would see Kael. The momentum of time seemed to have picked up when traveling with Lazar.  
  
With help from Lazar, Ewan had gained much more then just experience but a better understanding of life. Ewan's exceptional warrior skills had gained him respect among others they had encountered during their journey. Words of a dark knight had spread across the lands along with tales of a warrior goddess named, Cathain.  
  
As they rode their horses along another land of lush green hills and pristine rivers, Ewan thought of Cathain. Ewan had later found out from Lazar that Cathain was indeed the wielder of the Llan An Cailleach. As of late thoughts of her had been assailing his mind. She was no longer limited to just his dreams, she was just everywhere. The feelings were going stronger the more they traveled on. Could it mean they were getting closer? Ewan smiled at the thought of finally meeting her in person.  
  
"What are you smiling about, Dragon?" Ewan rolled his eyes at the nickname he had picked up while traveling. There had been many lessons as there were just as many fights. Kael had thought him well; along with his already heightened senses, Ewan had no other equal. They called him the Black Dragon. An enigma who wore black armor, another gift from Kael, and one who fought like a dragon, with such deadly strength and a cunning mind.  
  
Some of his encounters were dangerous battles, some were street brawls, and most were simple disagreements that always seemed to end up in a physical fight. However most of those little disagreements always happened when Lazar was around. Ewan had a feeling the old man had a hand in purposely riling up a situation. Could it be Lazar was simply testing Ewan? Perhaps Ewan thought, Lazar would never admit to it though. Instead, Ewan pushed the idea aside. He had to admit it was never a dull moment with Lazar around.  
  
"I was just thinking about Cathain, again." Ewan loved the way her name rolled off his tongue, Cathain. Lazar grinned and shook his head. "Well I can't help myself, Lazar. I do not know why but I feel as if we are getting closer. I can just feel her all around." Lazar nodded his head and smiled. Lazar could see that the year traveling has helped him grow more into a man.  
  
However, deep in those dark eyes was still the lost boy but they were covered under layers of experience. He had stopped asking Ewan about his dreams not that he was too old, but because Ewan would tell him first thing in the morning. In the beginning, he had dreams about Cathain and about the pretender, Conchobar. It was difficult for Ewan, to witness the one he loved with another. Nevertheless, he showed no signs that he wanted to give up Ewan were still determined to serve the wielder, his lady Cathain.  
  
A woman's scream echoed in the distance, quickly halting Ewan and Lazar's conversation. Ewan began to scan the area hoping to pinpoint where the scream had come from. Again, another scream was heard. Ewan turned his head towards the forest, quickly jolting his horse into a run. Lazar followed further behind. "No stay away from me!" The woman pleaded.  
  
Ewan slowed his horse down when he heard how close he was. He stopped and dismounted his horse, tying the reins onto a tree branch. He put on his helmet, grabbed his bow and a few arrows. With his sword secured to his back, Ewan quietly made his way towards where he last heard the woman's voice.  
  
There was a small clearing just ahead, a woman had her back pressed against a large tree trunk, in her hands was a branch she used as a weapon. Five men began to advance towards the woman. She swung the branch, warding them off. They backed off slightly, laughing at the vain attempt.  
  
"We got ourselves a spitfire. We'll have some fun breaking this one in, right." One of the men yelled out, the rest shouted out with laughter and amusement. Ewan made his was around. They had her surrounded. One positioned just a few feet to her left and another to her right. The other two were just a few feet in front of him. The one that had spoken aloud stood just a couple feet from the woman; he was the closest to her.  
  
Without his quiver, Ewan stuck the three arrows he grabbed into the ground, the ends sticking up, making it easier for him to draw at them. In this situation, quickness was essential. He picked up two arrows, placed them on the bow, and drew back, aiming for the two in front of him. The arrows silently sailed through the air and pierced into the men's back. They fell, dead before they hit the ground. Their gargled cries alerted the other the men.  
  
The one to the left of the woman turned just in time to watch the point of an arrow coming straight at him. The arrow pierced through his face. Ewan dropped his bow to the ground and drew out his sword. The man from the right drew his sword, and with a yell began to charge after Ewan.  
  
The man held his sword in both hands, holding it up into the air, mistakenly leaving his midsection unguarded. Ewan stood his ground and waited for him. Just when the man was about to bring down his sword, Ewan sidestepped and brought up his sword, slicing against his exposed midsection. The man bent over at the waist, his agonizing cry echoed in the air. Ewan brought down his sword severing the man's head from his body with ease.  
  
Ewan did not waste time over the dead man, he quickly made his way to the last man. Ewan stopped in mid-stride. The perpetrator took the woman hostage. He hid behind her; his left arm snaked around waist while the other held a dagger to her neck. "Drop your sword or I'll kill her!" Ewan had no other choice but to obey. He dropped his sword to the ground and held his arms to the side.  
  
"Step back!" the man yelled. The woman tried to free from the man's hold but he tighten his arm around her waist and pressed the knife closer to her neck. The man's hand had moved closer to her mouth, the woman saw the opportunity and bit down hard enough to draw blood. The man screamed "Argh," and his grip on the knife loosened, dropping to the ground. He ripped his hand out of her mouth, pushing to her to the side.  
  
For the time being forgetting about Ewan, the man swung his fist, backhanding the woman across the face. The woman fell backwards dazed and in pain. Ewan's eyes flared and were immediately closing in on the perpetrator. The man turned in time to see Ewan closing in but it was too late. With lightening speed Ewan struck the man in the throat with two fingers, instantly killing the man. A sickening gurgle sound escaped the man's lips the second before he died, his limp body slide down the tree trunk.  
  
The woman was still cowering on the ground, her dirty hands covering her face. "My lady its alright." Ewan knelt down, sticking out his arm. "I will not hurt you I swear." The woman looked at the dark knight between her fingers. The sound of his voice was soft and reassuring. She pushed herself up a bit from the ground and cautiously held out her hand. Ewan was about to grasp the outstretched arm when he heard a war cry.  
  
He snapped his head to the left just in time to see someone clad in armor coming towards him with a sword. Ewan rolled backwards to his sword. He picked it up in time to cover the blow that was aimed for his head. Ewan pushed against the sword and the other warrior staggered backwards. Ewan quickly got to his feet and defensively readied his stance for battle.  
  
Ewan could not see the warrior's face; the helmet the person wore hid their identity. The warrior let out another cry and advanced on Ewan. The woman stood to the side watching as the two warriors equally fought each other. Neither one relenting nor were they gaining an advantage in this fight. That was when he seen it as Ewan deflected yet another blow to his head. There was no mistaking the familiar red glint.  
  
'It was the Llan An Cailleach, and this woman must be.' Ewan thoughts interrupted when a stab of pain shot through his right shoulder, he lost his grip on his sword and it dropped to the ground. He mistakenly lost his focus giving her the opportunity to deliver a blow.  
  
She pulled back and was about to deliver a fatal blow when, without warning, the blade reverted to its bracelet form, leaving Cathain unarmed. The warrior stared disbelievingly at her arm. Had the Llan An Cailleach finally decided to abandon her at her most dire need? Cathain had no time to contemplate over the sudden predicament Ewan took the chance and wrestled her to the ground.  
  
Her helmet, knocked off during the struggle, finally revealed her face to the knight. Angry green eyes stared up from beneath wisp of dark brown that had escaped from her braided hair. Cathain was pinned to the ground with his heavy body flushed on top of hers, hands gripped into his; she could see dark eyes through the slit of his visor.  
  
"CATHAIN!" The woman's cry made Ewan look up at the woman.  
  
Capturing the opportunity Cathain withered a hand free from his vice like grip and with all her strength Cathain pushed against his injured shoulder, the pain causing him to roll over. Following in suit, Cathain pulled a dagger from her boot and held the tip at his exposed throat.  
  
"Cathain don't!" The woman pleaded.  
  
"Only upon my sister's request do you live! Now, do you yield?" She spoke hoarsely as she grasped for breath. Ewan had not spoken; he simply stared into those fiery green eyes of hers, mesmerized.  
  
"Do you yield!?" Agitated Cathain held the tip of the dagger so close to his throat that when he swallowed blood was drawn. The knight slowly held both hands up in surrender and nodded his head. Cathain did not relinquish her grip on the dagger but gradually eased off her weight.  
  
While sitting up Ewan caught the sudden swirl of the blade, without a second thought he roughly took the dagger from Cathain's hand. With her body still straddling him, he wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her slightly to the side and tossing the dagger into the air. Stunned by his swift movement all Cathain could do was rest her hands on his breastplate of his armor and stared shockingly into the shadows of the visor.  
  
"Cathain!" Deirdre screamed her name as Cathain turned to see what had happened.  
  
She eyed her dagger now embedded into the chest of a dead man, in his hand held a sword. He somehow sneaked up behind her and was about to strike down on her exposed back. The knight who she had fought had saved her life. When she turned back, she could see the knight watching her beneath his visor.  
  
His eyes filled with what she could see as - fear? Time had seemed to stop between the two; they sat still in each other's embrace, it seemed like hours before Cathain finally twisted out of his arms. Deirdre made her way over to the two fallen warriors and helped Cathain to her feet.  
  
"Are you all right?" Cathain exclaimed as she turned to her sister. Deirdre fell into her sister's open arms; tears streaming down her face. Deirdre buried her face into the crook of Cathain's neck, weary from the events that had just transpired. Afraid that her sister might faint, Cathain guided Deirdre to a large fallen tree branch she could use to sit on. Kneeling in front of her, Cathain began to smooth back the blonde tresses out of Deirdre's dirty face.  
  
A bruise was already forming on Deirdre's face. Cathain was sure that she had sustained a few minor cuts and bruises but fortunately, it was nothing serious. Looking deeply into green eyes so much like her own; Cathain again asked Deirdre if she was all right. Deirdre merely nodded her head still unable to find her voice.  
  
Giving her sister some time to clam down, Cathain stood and turned her attention back to the mysterious black knight. She watched Ewan get up to his feet and made his way over to retrieve his sword off the ground. With his left hand, he sheathed the sword behind his back. He then lifted his hand to inspect the damage to his shoulder.  
  
Rubbing the cold stone of the bracelet that adorned her wrist, Cathain was still confused why the blade had retracted back to its bracelet form quickly after she had stabbed the knight. It was as if the blade refused to be used against him. The blade hissed on her arm as if it was confirming her suspicions. Why? What was so special about him?  
  
Ewan could feel her eyes boar into his back. The image of those green eyes were locked in him memory. Apparently, his dreams did her no justice. She was more stunning and striking as ever. He still remembers how it felt like to hold her in his arms. In addition, when they fought she was his equal. No man has ever held his own against him as well as she did. She was in just one word, magnificent. Ewan felt like an idiot just standing there so he pretended to study his injury, though it did hurt his thoughts were far from his physical wound.  
  
After a time he decided to finally move and look for his discarded bow. Cathain watched as he started to move away, a bit fearful that he'd flee Cathain was about to yell when she seen him stop somewhere in the forest and bent to pick up something. He dusted of his bow and made his way back. At the same time another figured entered he clearing.  
  
"Ewan?!" Lazar yelled out. He was guiding both his and Ewan's horse, pulling on the reins as he walked towards them. "Over here!" His rich voice echoed and Cathain's heart skipped a beat. Cathain composed herself by taking a deep breath. 'Get a hold of yourself woman!' She chided. If she felt this way just because of the sound of his voice, what would happen if she finally seen his face? Seeing that Ewan was hurt, Lazar dropped the reins and rushed over to him. Not once had he made notice of Cathain or Deirdre.  
  
"What happened to you? Why are you injured?" Lazar demanded answers. Grateful that he still had his helmet on Ewan was blushing under underneath his visor remembering how he was caught off guard. "I'm fine, Lazar." Was all Ewan had said. He did not want to him what really happened. Kael would have his hide if he knew. Not only did he loose his focus he got himself injured in the process. 


	43. Chapter forty three

Lazar pressed a finger to Ewan's shoulder. "Ow! Lazar?!" Ewan said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice down. "See you are not fine. You are hurt and need tending to. Now tell me what happened." Lazar crossed his arms and waited. Ewan let out a sigh and began to explain. How he had been caught of guard when he realized the person he was fighting was actually Cathain, the wielder of the Llan An Cailleach. "Explain this?" Lazar pointed at a spot on his neck, the bleeding had stopped but the small cut left a trail of blood down his neck. Lazar chuckled and shook his head after Ewan explained. Lazar reached up to help remove Ewan's helmet.  
  
"Cathain" Deirdre's voice returned sounding a bit stronger and less strained then before. She called out to Cathain again. When her sister did not respond Deirdre pushed herself to her feet and walked over to Cathain. Cathain jumped slightly when she felt a delicate hand on her shoulder. "What is the matter with you? I called out to you but you didn't answer me." Cathain's mouth soundlessly moved as she looked from her sister to the man known as Ewan.  
  
Deirdre followed her sister's gaze and noticed that the knight's helmet was finally removed. From where they stood, there was not much they could see. With his head, lowered most of his long, curly dark locks cascaded down, covering most of his face. The rest of him hid behind the old man. Deirdre amusingly looked over at her sister. Cathain stood frozen in her spot. She bit down on her lip as she tilted, and strained her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dark knight.  
  
"Argh! What am I doing?" Cathain whispered to herself.  
  
"My thoughts exactly." Deirdre tried to contain her amusement. Cathain narrowed her eyes on her sister and decided that she was acting silly. 'So what she found his voice attractive. He must be a complete dog under all that hair.' Cathain tried to convince herself as she walked over to the two men. Deirdre was following closely behind. Ewan lowered his head when he heard the two women walking towards them. Lazar turned around to greet them. Cathain smiled at the old man. Lazar had first appeared to Cathain the year the Llan An Cailleach chose her to be the next wielder.  
  
Over time, Lazar had helped and guided her. Telling her tales of past wielders, the blade's history, and the role she played. However, the true secrets were held within and only she was privy to those secrets. Then one year he simply told her that he was to partake in an important journey and that he was going to leave her. She was sad when he left but now here he was again but whom did he bring?  
  
"Its is good to see you again, child." Cathain smiled as Lazar hugged her. She tried to get a look of the dark knight's face over Lazar's shoulder but his head was lowered. He did not bother to look up. Lazar then turned to her sister, "Are you alright, child?" He wiped the dirt from her face and gently cupped her uninjured cheek. "I'm alright now Lazar thanks to him." She tilted her head towards Ewan. Cathain gasped, "He saved your life?" Deirdre nodded her head. She had been wrong about him. He wasn't attacking her sister it was the complete opposite. He was the one that actually rescued Deirdre from those men.  
  
Cathain moved over to stand in front of Ewan. He stood still as she spoke, "Thank you. I am indebted to you for not only saving my sister's life but for mine as well." Ewan remained quiet. Cathain continued, "If I had known that you were the one that saved her life I wouldn't have attacked you." Cathain paused for a moment. I bit irritated that he was not looking at her or responding. "Will you forgive my hasty conclusion and accept my apology?" She let out an exasperated sigh and placed her hands on her hips.  
  
"Will you not raise your head so I can properly address thy knight? I am not very fond of talking to someone who cannot meet me eye to eye." annoyed that she had spent most of her time speaking to the top of someone's head. Ewan flinched at her frustrated demand. With a sigh, he slowly raised his head letting his eyes graze every inch of her. Finally, their eyes meet. She had to stifle a gasp for it was he, the man from her dreams. The very one who was there with her as she ran through a grueling gauntlet. He had been there in the beginning and at the end. This had been the mysterious shadow that plagued her dreams since she acquired the Llan An Cailleach. "You!" the word was barely a whisper.  
  
The startled voice echoed in the distance and everything faded to black like some movie that finally reached its climatic end. However, this was not the end. Sara gasped as she tried to shake the haziness she felt. She let her eyes adjust to the abrupt change in scenery. There was no forest, no room, no roaring fire, no large bed, and especially no Ewan. Sara felt a pang of disappointment deep inside. She found herself longing to be back in his loving embrace, to feel his tender caresses and share in his heated kisses. She wanted to drown in those dark pools of hazel eyes. She just wanted the man period.  
  
How could Cathain not tell him what she really felt? Why did the woman hold back? Sara knew Cathain loved Ewan. How could she not know? Sara felt everything Cathain had felt. The butterflies in her stomach, the skipping beats of her heart, and everything that one felt when in love. If Cathain was in love with Ewan, she should have told him. In addition, what happened to Conchobar? Where was he in all of this? Sara had more questions then she did answers.  
  
"Don't worry Sara your questions will be answered in time." Sara whirled around to face Cathain. In place of the robe she had been wearing, Cathain was clad in armor, her helmet secured under her right arm. Sara's eyes widen when she noticed the blade was missing from Cathain's wrist. Cathain followed Sara's gaze to her bare wrist. With a sad smile Cathain said, "You once said to me that we both loved Conchobar and if there was a way to bring him back." Sara nodded her head. "You said yes but you never told me. Will you tell me now?" Sara said a bit hopeful. Cathain looked up at Sara, "How well did you know your Conchobar, Sara?" The question took Sara by surprise. Her mouth began to move but no words were forming. After a moment Sara finally said, "I knew enough to love him." Sara's explanation sounded weak even to her.  
  
Cathain nodded her head, "I was the same way as you, Sara. I thought I knew him well. My love for him blinded me and in the end he betrayed me." Sara was about to protest when Cathain cut in, holding up her hand. "Perhaps your Conchobar would not have betrayed you, Sara. Nevertheless, since he is gone you may never know that. History does tend to repeat itself. My Conchobar betrayed my love, my trust. He used me only to gain his place for power, for a crown. He never loved 'me' he loved what I was able to give him, the powers of the Llan An Cailleach. By the time I realized his true purpose I had already lost so many dear to me." Cathain's voice laced with sadness.  
  
"Your sister, Deirdre and your daughter, Iona?"  
  
"Yes, my dear sweet sister Deirdre and the innocent Iona." Cathain continued seeing the curiosity in Sara's eyes, "Conchobar and I did not have a child together. Iona was an orphaned child Deirdre and I took in soon after Conchobar left. People just assumed Iona was ours I just never bothered to explain. Why should I it was none of their business. But I should have then perhaps she would have lived instead of being used to get to me." Sara nodded her head in understanding.  
  
"There was someone else, Sara." Cathain's voice grew somber and trembled.  
  
"Ewan" Sara whispered sadly.  
  
"Yes," Cathain closed her eyes tears streaming down her face. "Because of my blindness, my fears, and stubbornness I was not able to help him. I lost the one person who truly understood and loved me. Not as the wielder of the Llan An Cailleach but as a person, a woman." Sara's face contorted with sorrow knowing exactly what it felt like to lose someone she loved. 'But who was able to get a drop on him?' Sara thought as she remembered his incredible fighting skills, so much like Ian. "What happened, Cathain?" Sara found herself asking.  
  
"It is best if I showed you, Sara." A doorway seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Cathain reached to push the door but stopped and turned to Sara. "Step over this threshold with an opened mind, Sara. Some of the answers you seek are just beyond this door." Cathain opened the door. Sara, standing closely behind, brought her hand up to shade the light from her eyes. Cautiously she entered through the doorway. 


	44. Chapter forty four

The engulfing brilliance had dimmed to a soft glow that came from the roaring fire and lit candles. Sara looked around the spacious room, her eyes immediately falling at the quarreling couple. Sara, a bit surprised, stood aside from this vision. As a bystander, Sara watched Cathain and Ewan's heated argument. "I don't trust him, Cathain." Ewan stated.  
  
"I do! You do not know him as I do, Ewan. He's a good man with a good heart." Cathain said defending Conchobar.  
  
"He betrayed you!"  
  
"He had to make a choice, Ewan. It was either the crown or me." The hint of disappointment in Cathain's voice was evident. She tried to hide it but Ewan picked it up. He moved to Cathain, wrapping his arm around her waist, bring her closer to him. Cathain moved willingly into Ewan's arms, she always welcomed the security of his embrace even before they were lovers. With the back of his knuckles he gently stroke up and the side of her face. He lifted her chin with his fingers as he spoke, his voice lowered so that only Cathain could hear, and "If it were me, my love there would have been no choice to make. I would have gladly forsaken my birthright if I could not have you by my side." Cathain's smile soon faded as Ewan leaned down to brush his lips against hers. She placed a hand behind his head, weaving her fingers into his hair, holding him in place. They continued to kiss until the necessity to breath pulled them apart.  
  
Cathain sighed as she pulled away. Opening her eyes to stare deeply into the dark richness of his. So much love and devotion projected in those eyes of his. Cathain never thought such an uninhibited love existed but here it was, staring at her in the face. Even with her time with Conchobar, she never felt this way. She cupped the side of Ewan's cheek, letting her fingers wander into the mass of his dark beard. Ewan closed his eyes and happily leaned into her touch. Cathain knew she loved Ewan but she was so afraid to tell him. The last time she told someone she loved him he left her. Then those she loved dearly were slowly taken away from her, ripped away by death. The pain was just too great she did not want to take that chance again.  
  
For a time she kept her distance from Ewan being down right harsh and mean anything to keep him away. Yet no matter how cruel she was towards him he was still there, never once was there a hint he was going to leave. Over time, he had grown on her and they had become friends. Cathain still tried to keep her distance, reassuring that they were only friends and nothing more. Pushing him away when things them were growing too serious between them. She knew he was increasingly becoming frustrated with her but he continued to stay.  
  
Then one night their physical attraction could not be denied, a night of passion had culminated into something Cathain was not ready to deal with. That night Ewan had told her that he loved her and in return, she told him that she cared. She knew it was not something he was expecting but it was the best she could do. She could not tell him, she just couldn't. She held back because she was too afraid. Too afraid to open her heart again only to have it broken. Maybe one day she would have the courage to tell Ewan, but for now, it was not going to be today.  
  
Cathain continued to caress his cheek, "Ewan, please do this for me." His eyes opened to the pleading sound of her voice. Fears that had been suppressed over the years have returned to haunt him. Doubts began to arise as bits and pieces of his conversation with Lazar that night he returned ran in Ewan's mind.  
  
~~What would happen if she fell in love with someone else?~~  
  
Ewan reached for Cathain's hands, holding them firmly in his. Afraid that if he let her go she would leave him. He took a deep breath and stared deeply into her eyes.  
  
"Do you still love him, Cathain?" Ewan tried to conceal the twinge in his voice. His question caught Cathain off guard and it took her a moment to answer. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. Her mouth began to move but no words were uttered. When finally she found her voice she cleared her throat and spoke, "Why are you asking me this?" Ewan inwardly winced at her tone. "Because I want to know, Cathain. Do you still love him?" Ewan's concern grew every second he waited of her answer. ~~What would happen if she fell in love with someone else?~~ And if she still loved Conchobar, wanted to be with him, would he be able to step back and let them have their love? The very thought was killing Ewan inside.  
  
"Answer me, Cathain!" Ewan's patience was waning thin. Cathain pulled her hands free from his. Angry that he would ask such a question. "I will not answer, Ewan. You are just acting like some jealous, immature, child!" Cathain snapped, taking a step back. Ewan nodded his head, his heart starting to feel heavy. "Then I will ask you another question." Ewan paused.  
  
~~What if she does not return your love? ~~  
  
"Do you love me?" The sound of his hopeful voice pulled at her heart. Cathain shut her eyes against the longing in his eyes, letting out a sigh. She was not ready, she just wasn't ready. "Now is not the time to discuss such matters, Ewan. We have to decide," before she could say anything more Ewan cut her off.  
  
"We've never discussed this, Cathain! When the 'matter' arose, you simply avoided it. Tell me, tell me what must I do to gain your love Cathain and I will do it!"  
  
"You don't understand, Ewan."  
  
"How can I understand if you keep shutting me out?"  
  
"This isn't easy for me. Just give me time, Ewan. Please?" Cathain pleaded as she looked up him, her eyes glazed with tears. Quickly he was at her side, his hands cupping her face. "I have and will always love you, Cathain. Yet, my patience grows thin and I do not know how much more my heart can take. But I will wait just please don't take too long my love." He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Ewan sighed and turned to leave the room. Just as he closed the door behind him, a voiced stopped him cold in his tracks.  
  
"Cathain doesn't want you." Ewan turned, angrily staring at Conchobar who was leisurely leaning against the wall. "Why would she want you when she can have me. Do you honestly think she will chose you, an orphaned boy, over a king?" Ewan knew Conchobar was only baiting him for a fight. "You're wrong. Cathain loves me." Conchobar chuckled as he pushed off from the wall. He walked over to stand in front of Ewan. "Does she know? Tell me, boy. Has Cathain ever told you she loved you, hm?" Pain flashed in Ewan's eyes and Conchobar caught it. "You want to know why she hasn't told you that she loves you, Ewan? Its because she still loves me, she always will." Ewan knew it was a lie. Cathain loves him, right? Conchobar continued with his insults, "Just because you've shared her bed doesn't mean anything. She'll soon forget about you when I'm done with her." Finally, something snapped and before neither, one realized what was happening Ewan swung a fist across Conchobar's face.  
  
The sickening sounds of Conchobar's nose breaking echoed in the empty hallway. Ewan delivered another blow to the gut, and a whooshing sound was heard as air was forced out of Conchobar's lungs. Ewan grabbed the collar of Conchobar's shirt and swung him around, pushing him through the door. The loud crash made Cathain jump. She turned around in time to see Conchobar sprawled onto his back; blood from his nose covered most of his face. "Ewan!" She yelled but her cries were ignored as Ewan advanced on Conchobar. He picked the man up from the floor with ease, "She will never love you, boy." Ewan sneered, seeing only red. He delivered another punch to the face and let the man fall back down. Ewan towered over Conchobar's prone body, his chest heaving up and down from the rush of adrenaline.  
  
Cathain rushed over to Ewan, roughly pushing him away from Conchobar. Ewan was pulled from his angered state as he staggers backwards from her force. He blinked back, watching as Cathain knelt beside Conchobar. "What were you thinking?!" Cathain demanded. Ewan's anger rising to another level as he watched the woman he loves aid his enemy. "Conchobar? Conchobar are you alright?" Cathain immediately by his side helping him roll onto his back. He whispered her name, "Cathain?" He reached out to grab her hand. She gave his hand a light squeeze and said, "I'm right here." Every part of his body ached but Conchobar never felt none of the pain, he was too happy with what happened. Now Cathain will see the kind of man her Ewan really is and cast him aside.  
  
"Cathain?" Ewan called out to her.  
  
Cathain quickly got up and pounced on Ewan, her green eyes flared. "What is the matter with you?! How could you do this to him!?" From behind Ewan could see the smug smile on Conchobar's face as he lie there. Ewan ignored Cathain and made a move towards him. The distinctive sounds of the blade were heard and Cathain held the gauntlet across her chest. Her other hand held Ewan firmly in place. Ewan looked at Cathain incredulously, "You would lift the blade against me?" His voice was hoarse and rough with anger.  
  
"I would use it to knock some sense into that thick head of yours. Stop this! You are acting like a jealous child. Conchobar has done nothing to you."  
  
"He has done more then you think. He will betray you, Cathain. He is just using you for the Llan An Cailleach. You are just to damn blinded to see that. He doesn't love you, he lusts after the power, after the blade, not you." Ewan knew his words had hurt Cathain but at the moment, he did not care. He was too angry and hurt to be reasonable.  
  
"Leave!" Cathain demanded, tears already welling in her eyes. When Ewan made no move, she pushed at this chest. With the blade active on her arm, the force from the push sent Ian reeling backwards. "Leave now, Ewan. Return when you've regained your senses, then we will talk." Cathain returned to Conchobar. He immediately reached for her hand. "Don't leave, Cathain." She gave him a reassuring smile, "I won't leave you, Conchobar. Come on lets get you cleaned up." She said as she tried to help Conchobar to his feet. Ewan's head lowered, his heart sank as he listened.  
  
~~And what if she does not return your love? What would happen if she fell in love with someone else? Then what, Ewan?"~~  
  
Without another word, Ewan left them alone in the room and headed for the stables. "Liam ready my horse I'm going out for a ride." Ewan bellowed the order to the stable boy. The boy shot up and prepared Ewan's horse. He cautiously watched Ewan, in obvious anger, pace back and forth. Liam wondered what would have angered his master so. Instead, he held his tongue; he was going to find out eventually. Liam looked up at the night sky, it was a bit cloudy and the moon was high. Perhaps tonight was not the best night for riding. He looked back up to see the red ring around the full moon; Liam was beginning to have a bad feeling,  
  
"Liam!" Ewan's voiced pulled the boy out of his trance. The boy handed the reins over to Ewan who quickly mounted his horse. "Sir," Was as far as Liam got as he tried to protest the nights ride. 


	45. Chapter forty five

Ewan pushed his horse until the animal's panting cries reached his hears. Ewan gradually brought his horse to a slow trot, then finally to a stop. He dismounted and led them to a nearby stream. The horse gratefully walked over and drank the cool water. Feeling a bit guilty, Ewan walked over to his horse; then gently began rubbing its neck. Ewan's thoughts began to wonder back to what had happened earlier. His anger was slowly fading and in its wake was shame. He felt embarrassed at what happened. He should not have gotten angry with Cathain and he regretted what he said, remembering the tears in those green eyes.  
  
Their argument was stupid really. He was just so afraid that she was going to open her eyes one morning and realize that she wanted Conchobar instead of him. So afraid that he was going to lose her to him. The pain was just too great. His mind drifted back to his conversation with Lazar. What he said then was true, he would serve her until his last breath was drawn. Even if it meant that, he would have to do it from the shadows but he did not realize then just how painful it was going to be. To be so near her yet so far away. Not to be able to hold her, touch her, it was all just too maddening. With a groan, Ewan dropped to his knees, splashing water against his face. The frigid water attacking his senses, finally waking them up. He laid his hands against his thighs, his head hanging. "I've acted like an ass." Ewan said aloud to no one. His horse grunted then continued to drink more water. Ewan glanced at his horse, "I see that you agree." He leaned over to give a hard pat against the horse's side, "Sorry boy for pushing you so hard. I didn't realize," Ewan let the sentence drop. He sighed as the realization finally hit him and he understood why Cathain had been pushing him away.  
  
She was just as afraid as he was. Afraid that he would leave her how Conchobar had done. Afraid to lose him how she had lost Deirdre and Iona. Ewan shook his head in shame. Why did it take him so long to realize it? His horse grunted again, Ewan could not help but smile. "Yes I know I was acting like an ass but no more. Come on boy lets go home. My love awaits." Ewan grabbed the reins and swiftly mounted. Ewan grinned, "There was one good thing that came out of this situation. I did manage to break the bastard's nose." Just as he was turning the horse around a scream echoed into the night. Even in with the pale light from the full moon, Ewan navigated his horse with ease. Soon enough they had reached where Ewan had last heard the scream.  
  
From what Ewan could see there were two hooded figures. The tallest out of the two had a grip around the other's wrist. "Please just let me go!" There was no hiding the distinctive sounds of fear as the woman pleaded to be released. Ewan slowly pulled out his sword and silently crept his way towards the duo. With his sword, drawn Ewan had managed to sneak up behind the tallest of the group. The tip of his sword rested against the man's back, "Release her now." Ewan demanded. The man reluctantly released the woman's wrist. "Are you alright?" He questioned the woman but she made no sound, worst she made no move to get away. Could he have been hasty in his decision to get involved? Ewan had been so preoccupied with Cathain that he may have made a mistake in interfering. Within a split second, sword already drawn, the other man had spun around.  
  
Quickly Ewan was on the defense, dodging thrust after thrust. When he finally regained his focus Ewan turned the tables and began attacking the man. The battle raged on for some time, but finally Ewan gained the upper hand, disarming the man of his weapon and threw a punch knocking the man down to the ground. Ewan towered over the prone figure, his eyes narrowed as the hood of the cloak revealed the man's identity. "Kellan?!" Ewan was pulled out of his stupor when he heard a woman's scream coming from behind him. He spun around just in time to see the woman charging after him with a sword in hand. Ensuing yet another fight.  
  
Ewan was surprised at the skills the woman possessed. Besides Cathain, no other person was his equal. They fought back and forth neither gaining an advantage over the other. Somehow, during the deadly dance the woman had managed to disarm Ewan of his sword with a move that only one other person would know about and that was Kael. He backed away slowly as his mind reeling, trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle. He was snapped out of it with another scream, the woman charged forward, sword held above her head. Ewan ran up and held her wrist in his hands before she was able to bring the blade down on him. During the struggle the hood of the cape fell back and Ewan's eyes widen as he stared into familiar green eyes, "FIONA!"  
  
"Hello Ewan," A wicked smile spread across her face, her voice was so cold sending a shiver down Ewan's spine. She struggled against his hold; the pressure he was causing was straining her grip on her sword. Ewan held her icy glare, "why are you doing this?" An evil laugh escaped her lips, "Revenge. Good-Night Ewan." It was a second too late before Ewan realized what was going on and everything faded to black. Kellan had sneaked up behind Ewan and knocked him out with a blow to the back of the head.  
  
"Took you long enough to help, Kellan." He placed his sword back into the scabbard and brought a hand to his jaw. He moved it around making sure it was not broken after Ewan had punched him. "You always had a weak chin." He stared coldly at Fiona. "Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with. Then we can get paid." Kellan kicked Ewan's unconscious body. Fiona shook her head as she stared down at Ewan. "No not yet." Fiona's mind was reeling with ideas, "Grab his horse and lets head back to the cabin." Kellan sighed and walked over to grab the horse but the animal eluded and had managed to escape. "Idiot" Fiona whispered as she mounted her horse.  
  
"There how does that feel?" Cathain asked as she finished wiping away the last remnants of blood from Conchobar's face. "It hurts." He stated. Cathain flashed him a small smile before getting up from her kneeling position in front of him. She picked up the basin full of pinkish water and called out for one of the servants to take it away. "I'm not surprised, your nose is broken." Cathain grinned. Conchobar reached out to caress her cheek but quickly averted his touch. She moved over to the window looking out into the night sky, staring at the full moon then out into the forest. Liam, one of the stable boys, had informed her that Ewan had angrily gone off for a ride. Thoughts of their earlier fight resurrected, along with the tears that began to resurface.  
  
"You shouldn't waste your tears on him." Conchobar had moved up behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Cathain's head lowered as he turned her around, "He is not worth it, Cathain." He placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face up. He cupped her face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears. She closed her eyes against his touch, his words sinking in. Unable to resist Conchobar leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Cathain eyes immediately flew open and she pushed him back. Conchobar stared back confused. "He is worth it to me." Cathain declared  
  
"You don't even love him!"  
  
"What makes you think I don't love Ewan?" Cathain exclaimed.  
  
"Have you ever told him that you loved him?" Conchobar questioned.  
  
"No," she whispered. A smug smile appeared on Conchobar's face. Cathain looked up and stared deeply into his eyes, a smile on her lips. "But that doesn't mean that I don't love him, I do." Her smile grew boarder, "I love him." Cathain sighed as she said it aloud. She had always loved him and was no longer afraid to admit it to herself. She chastised at herself for letting the fear overwhelm her. For pushing him away all this time because she was afraid of being hurt and left alone. Punishing him, no them by holding back. The possibilities of what they could have had if she had just let go of her fear. 'No more' she thought. "I love Ewan and there is nothing you or anyone can do to change that. I love him." She continued to declare, liking the way the words flowed from her lips. She was becoming giddy inside; she found herself anticipating Ewan's return. There was an aching need that had been growing inside. A need that always occurred while they were apart. She needed him, she needed her Ewan.  
  
"Your love with him isn't real, Cathain. Our love is true!"  
  
"I will not deny that I loved you once Conchobar but don't you see its over. I don't love you that way anymore. Moreover, I don't think ever you loved me, I think you loved what I could offer you. Power, power from this." Cathain held up her wrist. "Tell me Conchobar. Why did you come back here? What do you want from me, hm? The last time you called for me I was used to help defend your crown. So tell me why did you really come back?" Ewan's words ran through her mind. Could he have been right about Conchobar's motives?  
  
Conchobar could see the blade swirl on her arm. As if daring him to try to lie to Cathain about his reasons for being here. He took a deep breath and exhaled, "Other forces are arising. I need your help to defend my crown once again." Cathain grinned and nodded her head, finally understanding. "But I also came back for you, Cathain." Conchobar added. Cathain raised her blade-clad arm and said, "Yet it is the power of the Llan An Cailleach you seek first. I am just a prize to you." Conchobar shook his head no. "I will not help you this time Conchobar. Good-bye." Cathain turned to leave.  
  
"He does not love you, he too lusts after the Llan An Cailleach."  
  
"No, he loves 'me' and I love him." Cathain threw over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around.  
  
"You're love will not last, Cathain."  
  
"It will! And it will span throughout lifetimes." She added with assurance.  
  
"We shall see." Conchobar muttered under his breath as he watched Cathain leave.  
  
Cathain was heading back to her room when Liam found her. The boy rushed up to her, panting for breath. "What is it Liam?" Cathain reached out to rub the boy's back as he leaned over to catch his breath. He straightened up and said, "Master's horse came back alone." Cathain's heart sank to her stomach, fear started to overwhelm her. "What?!" she exclaimed hoping that the boy was mistaken. "The master's horse returned alone. He's nowhere to be found." Cathain's heart began to race. She ran down to the stables to see for herself. Sure enough there was Ewan's horse but Ewan was nowhere in site. She reached out for the horse and the blade glowed on her wrist, showing her a vision of Ewan in a fight then being taken away. She gasped and tears began to well in her eyes. She looked down at the blade, the stone still glowing red, "guide me to him," She pleaded. She mounted Ewan's horse and the blade took them to the cabin in the woods.  
  
"What are we waiting for Fiona? He's going to be here soon and he wanted us to kill him." Kellan said as he pointed to Ewan who was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, ankels bound, hands tied behind his back and a hood covered his head. "So this is what has become of the two of you? Assassins?" Ewan laughed, Kellan walked over and punched him in the face. "That was for earlier." Ewan continued to laugh, provoking Kellan. "You still hit like a girl." Kellan was about to hit Ewan again but the blade on his neck stopped him. "That is enough. He is just trying to get to you and it seems to be working. Leave him alone."  
  
"Why are you doing this Fiona? What is it do you want?" Before Fiona could answer, she heard something outside the cabin. She motioned Kellan to see what was going on. He cautiously opened the door and stepped outside. Moments passed before Fiona heard anything. With the hood over his head, Ewan could not see anything but he could hear a struggle going on outside, followed by a loud crash. Kellan flew threw the door, his prone body lay unconscious on the ground.  
  
Fiona placed the tip of her sword against Ewan's chest. She watched Cathain walk through the door. "My what an entrance you make." Fiona leaned down to pulling the hood off. Cathain winced at the visible bruises and blood she could see on his face. "Hello my love." Ewan flashed a small smile, his loving endearment tugging at her heart. She wanted nothing more then to run to him but her legs stayed rooted. Cathain's cold eyes stared at the woman. "Let him go." Fiona grinned, shaking her head. Cathain's body stiffened as Fiona dangerously caress the side of Ewan's neck with the tip of the blade. "Please," Fiona looked up, stopping what she was doing, "I'll give you anything you want. Just please let him go." Cathain watched as Fiona contemplated of her offer.  
  
The other woman's eyes began to travel down Cathain's body, stopping when she found what she was looking for. Cathain's eyes followed Fiona's gaze to her right wrist, to the Llan An Cailleach. "That's a pretty bracelet." Cathain reached out with other hand, her fingers caressing the stone. "I want it." Fiona exclaimed. Cathain's head snapped up, her eyes widen in shock, mouth agape. There were so much she could have asked Cathain but she wanted the one thing she could not give. "No, don't give it to her Cathain. Don't." Ewan began to protest but was interrupted with a kick to the face. Cathain's anger flared and she took a step forward. Fiona quickly placed the blade against Ewan's neck, she pressed down slightly and blood began to flow down from where the blade rested. Stopping Cathain in place. "Why are you doing this? He hasn't done anything to you." Fiona's eyes flared. "He betrayed me and its you're fault. He was supposed to love me not you. But once I gain possession of the Llan An Cailleach," Fiona motioned to the blade, "then he'll have to love me like how he's done for you all those years." Cathain looked at Fiona shockingly. "Yes I know about the power you possess. You used it to cast a spell over his heart."  
  
"This," Cathain held up her arm, showing her the blade, "will not help you win Ewan's heart." Fiona shook her head in disagreement. "Give me the bracelet." Fiona's voice was low and menacing. Cathain brought up her arm and stared at the bracelet, stuck between losing her love or her destiny. "Cathain don't." Ewan was kicked again in the face. He winced from the pain, his body sliding down until his forehead rested on the ground. "The bracelet." Fiona demanded again. When Cathain made no move Fiona, used her foot to push Ewan's onto his back, she raised the blade over her head and was about to plunge it down into Ewan's chest. "Wait!" Cathain pleaded, her voice trembled, eyes brimming with tears. The tip of the blade stopped, hovering dangerously over Ewan's chest. "All right you win. I'll give it to you." Cathain began to remove the bracelet from her wrist, Ewan's pleas was faintly heard, "No love. Please don't." Cathain held the bracelet in her hand, looking at it for the last time.  
  
"Give it to me!" Fiona yelled impatiently. Cathain tossed the bracelet across the room and was shocked when it landed on Fiona's wrist. Quickly the glow of the stone grew an angry red. Transfixed by the blade's power, Fiona dropped her sword. With her, other hand she held her right arm as a burning sensation ran up from her wrist to her arm. She stumbled backwards against the opposite wall, ensnared in a tumultous wave of delirium. Cathain quickly moved over to Ewan, helping him to a sitting position. She cut the bonds to his ankles and was about to cut the ties on his hands when someone walked through the door, calling out, "Fiona!"  
  
Cathain and Ewan were surprised to see Conchobar. His shock was evident when he seen Cathain. Ewan, even in his clouded state began to piece together the pieces. "You," Ewan declared, "You were the one that hired Fiona to kill me." Cathain's eyes widen at Ewan's implications. She looked over at Conchobar surprised to see that he was not denying it. Cathain helped Ewan to his feet; their only exit blocked by Conchobar and nearby was Fiona still caught in the blade's hold. "Yes I hired her. I found out who she was and I knew I could use her to get to you. I knew she'd kill you because she hated you as much as I do." Cathain stared disbelievingly, "Why?" she asked. "Yes I wanted the power of the Llan An Cailleach but I also wanted you back Cathain. I was wrong to have given up on what we had, casting away our love. I was a fool to have betrayed you. But I knew I couldn't have you unless I got rid of that boy!" A distinctive sound of metal echoed in the cabin.  
  
"Its always about that witch!" Three pairs of eyes turned to Fiona. The blade reverted into its full gauntlet form, the sword gleaming in the firelight. "Fiona?" Conchobar's eyes widen in disbelief then amazement that Fiona was now wielding the Llan An Cailleach. Conchobar grinned, realizing that perhaps with this new development he could control the blade through Fiona. He stole glance at Cathain, yet he still wanted her. Perhaps he still could have both. He confidently walked over to Fiona. "You're wrong love. This is not about her; it is about you now. The wielder of the Llan An Cailleach. Together we can rule whatever we desire." Fiona smiled sweetly, "You're nothing but a liar but if it's the power of the blade that you seek then take it." Fiona brought her arm up and easily thrust the blade through Conchobar's chest, piercing his heart. He made a startled gasp, his mouth hung open, his eyes registering shock and disbelief. Conchobar's body slides easily from the blade and onto the floor. She turned her attention to Cathain and Ewan; there in her eyes held no remorse with what she had done. Fiona wickedly smiled, as she gave into the bloodlust.  
  
Cathain picked up Fiona's discarded sword off the ground, pushing Ewan behind her. He swayed slightly on his feet, still disoriented from his encounter earlier with Kellan and Fiona. His body ached no doubt from Kellan taking cheap shots while he was unconscious. Fiona casually stepped over Conchobar's body, blocking their only exit. "You are not taking him away from me again witch." Fiona held the blade up. "He was never yours to begin with." Cathain raised her sword, "He's mine!" Cathain added. Fiona fumed and charged after Cathain. The clashing of metal against metal echoed in the cabin. Ewan could see Cathain was barely holding her own. With Fiona's skills aided by the blade she was quickly becoming too much. Ewan searched the room for a weapon when he eyed his sword near Kellan's unconscious body. Using the wall for support, he unsteadily made his way over. He pushed the nausea aside as he bent to retrieve his sword. Ewan stood up in time to see Cathain struggling against Fiona.  
  
The force from Fiona's blow shattered the sword in Cathain's hand. Cathain stared in disbelief; the momentary of shock startled both women. Fiona quickly recovered backhanding Cathain across the face, sending her flying backwards onto the floor, knocking the wind right out of her. Fiona advanced on Cathain's prone figure and just before striking down on her another blade reached out and deflected the blow. Fiona jumped back, angry and confused she stared at her new opponent. "Why are you fighting me Ewan? Let me kill this witch so we can be together. Don't you realize that I love you and that I'm doing this for you, for us." A wave of dizziness caused as he shook his head slightly. "You are confusing lust with love, Fiona. You never loved me if you did you would not be doing this. I have and will always love Cathain. Not you or anyone will change that. If you do love me please Fiona stop this now." Ewan pleaded as he tightens his grip on his sword.  
  
From behind Cathain could see the bloodlust running through Fiona's eyes. Ewan's words were having no affect on her; it only seemed to add to Fiona's anger. "Damn you both! If I cannot have you then now one will!" Fiona lunged forward, the blade at full force. Ewan tried to defend himself but combined with his weakened state and the power the blade was providing Fiona, he knew this was a battle he could not win. In that brief moment, he reached out to Cathain with his mind. "I love you, Cathain." Time seemed to have slowed and in that instant Cathain horridly watched as Fiona plunged the blade through Ewan's chest. The end protruding out Ewan's back his blood coating the blade, dripping down.  
  
"NOOO!!" Cathain's heart-wrenching cry filled the cabin.  
  
Unbridled fury overwhelmed her senses, her body. She pushed herself off the ground, rushing to Ewan's side, picking up his sword. Fiona tried to pull the blade free from Ewan's body but it remained, he brought up his arms, clasping the gauntlet in his hands holding it in place. She saw the knowing grin on his face. She tugged at her arm but the blade held in place. From behind Ewan, she watched as Cathain came rushing towards her, sword in hand. Cathain mercilessly thrust the blade through Fiona's heart. Cathain could faintly hear the blade return to its bracelet form. She gave one last shove, pushing until only the hilt pressed against Fiona's chest. The blade fell of Fiona's wrist, the clanging sound of metal rattled as it hit the floor. Cathain briefly stared down at her, her chest heaving up and down, her anger spent. She rushed over to Ewan; he had fallen to his knees and was about to fall back.  
  
Swiftly she caught him in her arms and gently guided him back to the ground. Tears streaming down her face as she looked at him. "Ewan please don't leave me, please!" Her voice trembled as she pleaded for him to live. Her right hand covering his wound, while her other hand was cupping the side of his face. Ewan tried to speak but could not over the blood that was spilling form his mouth. Cathain leaned down to kiss his forehead then his lips all the while whispering her pleas. "Please don't leave me alone. I need you, Ewan. Don't leave me now!" Her tears were brimming over her eyes, landing on his face. She rested her forehead against his, their eyes locked with each other. She could see the light in his eyes slowly fading away. "NO Ewan! Don't leave me please!" She cried one last time, and just before the spark of light disappeared she whispered, "I love you." 


	46. Chapter forty six

Sara closed her eyes against the familiar image of Cathain sprawled against Ewan's body. So much, like how she had done the night of the Irish massacre. The unbearable pain of loss she felt at that moment resurfaced. Only to have it intensify when she felt Cathain's sorrow course through her body. Tears began to flow down Sara's face, her legs becoming weak. The sobs of pain escaped her lips and her body began to tremble. She fell to her knees, landing on the other side of Ewan's body. She opened her eyes and stared at the once vibrant face of Ewan only to have his soulless eyes stare back at her. Eyes that were once full of love and happiness now blank. She reached out to touch his face only to have her hand pass through him. Slowly the image of Cathain and Ewan began to fade into the darkness, leaving her alone to mourn over him. Sara was trying to stay strong but the grief was far too great that she let it overwhelm her. She buried her face deeper into her hands, crying until there were no tears left to shed. She could not remember crying so much over someone. Not with John, Danny, Maria, or even her father. She had her time to mourn over their deaths but never had she broken down like this.  
  
She pulled her hands away from her face, wiping away the last vestige of tears. She took a deep breath and exhaled. Cathain's sorrow still lingered inside but not as overwhelming as before. She rested her hands on her thighs and leaned on them, her head lowered. On her wrist the Witchblade's pale radiance continued. Sara stared at it and spoke out, "Why is it doing this to me? Why did it bring me here?" Cathain reappeared to stand before Sara. "I think you already know that answer, Sara. I think you are slowly realizing and understanding that the blade is trying to teach you. These are lessons for you to help guide how you dictate your life, your future with the one who's been destined to protect you." Sara remained silent taking in everything Cathain was saying.  
  
During the Periculum Sara had asked Cathain if there was a way to bring John back. She had said yes but never told her. "Couldn't this," Sara motioned to the ornate bracelet on her wrist, "have saved Ewan, and bring him back?" Cathain sighed at her question. Sara had raised her head, finally looking up at Cathain, staring at her disbelievingly. It was there in Cathain's knowing eyes, the blade did have the power to save Ewan, possibly even bring him back to life. The question was why she did not do anything. Cathain answered Sara's unspoken question. "I couldn't save him, Sara. The blade abandoned me that night. I never got it back; I never wielded the Llan An Cailleach ever again." Cathain lowered her head.  
  
"Wasn't there anything you could have done?" Sara asked, hopeful.  
  
Cathain closed her eyes tears streaming down her face. She shook her head no. "What could I have done, Sara?"  
  
"Why did you hold back? Why didn't you tell Ewan how you felt, that you loved him?" Sara exclaimed, somehow the question was not only just for Cathain this time but for here as well. She waited in anticipation, she held her breath afraid what Cathain was going to say because she knew it was going to sound so much like her own excuses she used when it came to Ian. Sara had stood up and now the two warriors faced each other. Cathain opened her eyes to stare into familiar emerald eyes.  
  
"Do you know what its like to lose everyone you've loved?" Sara pursed her lips; images of everyone she has lost appeared in her mind. She gave her a small nod. "Then you know about the unbearable pain you go through when you lose someone. I had lost some much already I did not want to feel that pain again. Therefore, I built a wall around my heart, letting no one in. I pushed away those who dared to get close to me. For a while it worked."  
  
"Until Ewan showed up?" Sara added.  
  
"Yes, until he showed up." Cathain smiled remembering how they had first met. She shook her head at the memory. "Suddenly the wall around my heart was not at strong as before. I was so angry that he was able to do this to me. So naturally I took my anger out on him." Cathain giggled. "I continued to push him away, lying to myself and to him how I felt. Frustrated because he continued to stay no matter what I said to him. And I said some very awful things to him." Sara grinned, understanding. She knew Ian had his share of verbal bashing from her. Nevertheless, like Ewan the man stuck around.  
  
"There were times where I have seen what my words have done to him. I saw the pain reflected in his eyes. I felt so guilty, knowing that I was the cause of all his pain. But you have to understand it was necessary." Sara more then understood. "I didn't want to get close to him, I didn't want him to get close to me. People tend to die when they are around me. If not by death, they leave me on their own accord. My heart was not prepared for that kind of grief." Sara continued to listen to familiar words.  
  
"What changed your mind?" Sara asked curiously.  
  
Cathain's smiled broadly. "You could say he grew on me. He demonstrated such devotion, loyalty, and not to mention love towards 'me'. Not just as the wielder but as a woman. I must admit that at first such strong feelings were frightening to me. I never experienced such things before. After a while, the wall began to crack. Then that night when he told me he loved me, the barrier was no longer there. Although what was left in its wake was fear. It lingered and because of it I held back." Cathain hung her head.  
  
"Its my fault that Ewan died." Sara began to protest. Cathain shook her head, "If only," her voice began to tremble; her teardrops were hitting the floor. "If I had only told Ewan that I loved him when he asked me then he would still be alive. If only I hadn't let my fear take control perhaps the sequence of events would not have lead him to his death." Sara understood. Ewan would not have let Conchobar's words get to him, they would not have fought, and he would not have gotten angry and rode off into the night. He would not have confronted Fiona and Kellan. Moreover, Fiona would not have killed him while protecting Cathain.  
  
"So you see Sara don't let your fear take control of your life. Don't push him away like how I had pushed my Ewan." Cathain laid a hand on Sara's cheek.  
  
"But I'm scared, Cathain." Sara tears began flowing down her face, "I'm scared of losing him like how I lost everyone else." Cathain gathered Sara in her arms, letting her cry on her shoulder. Cathain hugged her then pulled back holding Sara hands in hers. Cathain gave them a reassuring squeeze then said, "I know you are Sara but you stand to lose so much more if you don't stop pushing him away. Give him something to live for and he will fight off death for you." Cathain wiped away the tear on Sara's face.  
  
"What about Irons?" Sara questioned.  
  
"I cannot help with Kenneth Irons, Sara." Cathain shook her head. Her eyes shifting to something just behind Sara.  
  
"I believe I can help, Sara." A voice rang out. Another woman appeared from the shadows. Sara turned to see who it was. Her eyes widen as she watched the elegantly dressed woman walk towards them. "Greetings Cathain." Cathain nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Elizabeth Bronte?" Sara whispered. "Hello Sara. Are you ready to walk down memory lane with me now?" Elizabeth grinned. 


	47. Chapter forty seven

~*~  
  
After sometime Nottingham reluctantly made his way back to Sara's apartment, quickly settling back into the vigilant spot on her fire escape. Vainly attempting to get comfortable but unfortunately after his rather uncontrollable incident earlier, he was finding it quite difficult. Earlier he had contemplated on going back to change but warded off the idea. He did not want to risk Irons knowing what happened and causing his master's ire. Therefore, he settled to stay there sitting uncomfortably in the cold night air and in his soiled pants. He turned his attention back to Sara, peering through the window and seeing the stone of the blade glow on her wrist.  
  
Nottingham shifted to his feet and knelt in front of the window wanting to get a better look inside. He leaned forward until his leather-clad hands were pressed against the glass. He narrowed his eyes as he looked inside. It was obvious that the blade was active on Sara's wrist. The fiery stone lit up surrounding the darkened apartment in its afterglow. Sara was becoming restless. Tossing and turning on her bed but surprisingly did not stir awake.  
  
Curiosity taking over his senses Nottingham began to pick the lock on Sara's window until the distinctive sound of the lock clicked. He moved his hands to push at the window but was surprised when it did not open. He rechecked to make sure that it was indeed unlocked. He pushed again but still the window refused to open. The situation was leaving a very frustrated and highly agitated Nottingham out in the cold. Without thinking, he pulled back his arm and punched the window.  
  
Instead of the sounds of breaking glass, a reverberating thud echoed into the silent night. Confused, Nottingham tried again and sure enough, the window remained in tact. He turned his attention to another window and like before he was unable to break into the apartment. The Witchblade blazed violently on Sara's wrist. Nottingham brought his hand up to shield against the light of the stone. The brilliance was so great that he had to turn his head away, shutting his eyes. The front his body that was exposed to the light was quickly heating up to a point where he felt as if he was on fire.  
  
Gradually the burning sensation abated and he was left gasping for breath, sweat pouring down from his face. Nottingham turned back to eye the bracelet on Sara's wrist. He reached for the window and again the blade grew brighter. Reluctantly he drew back, a bit perplexed. He made another attempt and the blade countered once again. It was an absurd thought but could the blade be protecting Sara? By preventing and keeping this particular Ian Nottingham from coming near it's wielder.  
  
Nottingham never paid much regard to the Witchblade and the powers it supposedly possessed. Neither had he understood his master's obsession to control it. Fortunately after being revived from his slumber, he was spared the details of the Witchblade. Nevertheless, as he looked through the window and after experiencing what had just happened, he had to rethink on the powers that little trinket could do. 'Just how powerful was the Witchblade?' He thought but with what little knowledge he had on it there was now way he could comprehend just how much.  
  
Perhaps he should contact the one person he knew that had all the answers. While reaching into his pocket for his cell phone Nottingham had to wonder why his master had not contacted him when the blade activated. He was well aware that Irons had a connection with the Witchblade, the man had informed him about it. However, he heard nothing from his master. His thoughts were quickly push aside when he heard his master's voice on the other end of the line.  
  
Nottingham reported the accounts of the night to Irons purposely leaving out his own little episode earlier. Then he began to divulge that the blade was active on her wrist. When asked to explain Nottingham realized that if he told his master of his failed attempt to break into Sara's apartment he would be punished. His orders were only to watch never to make contact with the wielder.  
  
Nottingham had to be careful how he chose his words. "I had positioned myself on the wielder's fire escape. I peered through the window when I noticed that the stone of the bracelet began to glow. I placed my palms on the window and immediately the room was engulfed in a red light. When I removed my hands the glow seemed to abate but it remained active. I tried to reach out again and the blade grew brighter."  
  
Irons remained silent on the line. His thoughts were too occupied with the fact that the blade was active yet he felt nothing except for a small distinctive sensation coming from the brand on his right hand. Irons sat in his chair near the fire, lifting his hand to inspect the two interlocking circles, the brand of the Witchblade.  
  
He wore it once but it rejected him and since that painful day he tore the Witchblade from his wrist he had always felt, knew when it was being used. However, since his episode in the elevator earlier that afternoon he felt nothing. Why? Was his connection to the blade broken? In addition, why was the blade being so active? Could it be another test, another Periculum?  
  
"What shall I do master?" Nottingham broke through the silence. Irons forgetting that he still cradled the phone in his hand.  
  
"Stay there and continue to watch over her. I will contact you when needed." Irons hung up before Nottingham could respond.  
  
Irons leaned back into his chair, rubbing his fingers against the scar on his hand. 'What was the Witchblade up to?' he wondered. His thoughts quickly interrupted when the phone began to ring. Believing that the caller was Nottingham he picked up without answering.  
  
"Mr. Irons?" To his surprise, it was one of the security guards.  
  
"What is it?" He shot out shortly.  
  
"Sir we have a problem." The guard paused letting his words sink in.  
  
"And?" Irons growing impatience was evident in his voice.  
  
"We believe there might have been a possible break in, Sir."  
  
"What evidence brought you to this conclusion?" Irons sat up in his chair as apprehension ran down his spine.  
  
"We found the two gate guards unconscious, both front cameras were destroyed, and we found a wheelchair hidden in the bushes a few feet away from the entrance." The guard informed. Irons' mind quickly began to piece things together. His eyes widen when he finally realized. He yelled back into the phone, "Find Dr. Immo, now!" Irons barked into the phone before slamming the receiver down. 'This was no break in it was a break out, an escape.' Irons thought as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He picked up the phone again and dialed the familiar number.  
  
Nottingham's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached into his coat and answered, "Yes master?"  
  
"A problem has arisen. Return to the mansion immediately." Irons ordered then hung up.  
  
Nottingham grinned grateful to be relieved from his vigilant duties. 'Finally,' he thought. He was going to be able to be doing something rather than sitting and watching. Though stealing one last glance at Sara's prone body, watching Sara was rather enjoyable. However, he preferred a more hands on approach. A wicked grin crossed his lips, maybe soon he thought as he tore his eyes away from Sara. He got up to leave Sara's fire escape and off to the mansion. 


	48. Chapter forty eight

~*~  
  
Faith pulled up along side of Gabriel's building. She turned the car off and looked over at Ian who had fallen asleep during the short ride. She hated to wake him but they needed to get inside and he had some wounds that required some serious attention. Faith looked out the car window to stare up at the building. She was a bit apprehensive that Gabriel was going to help her out. She had not given him the full details over the phone. Only that she was in need of his help. Apparently, it was enough to convince him to offer his assistance.  
  
'This would be so much easier if I hadn't agreed to watch over this Sara Pezzini.' She sighed. However, she had agreed and she was going to keep her promise to Ian.  
  
Faith got out of the car, walked over the passenger side, and opened the door. She knelt besides Ian, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. She cupped his face and gently called out his name, "Ian," attempting to rouse sleeping beauty. When he did not respond she moved her hand to his shoulder and lightly shook him careful not to scare him. "Ian wake up." She called out again a soft groan escaped his lips and Ian slowly opened his eyes. Faith smiled at him and said, "Wake up Ian where here."  
  
"Where is here?" He asked still drowsy from sleep.  
  
"The friend I was telling you about. This is where he lives. Come on let's get you inside." Faith helped Ian out of the car and up to Gabriel's apartment. When they finally reached their destination, she leaned Ian against the wall near the apartment door. Ian blinked several times and narrowed his eyes trying to read the sign on the door, 'Talismanic'. Faith raised her arm, ready to pound on the door when Ian stopped her.  
  
"Wait! How do you know Gabriel Bowman?" Faith lowered her arm and turned her head to stare at Ian. "He's helped me with a few acquisitions in the past. Why?" How do you know Gabriel Bowman?" Faith narrowed her eyes on Ian. She sees that he was holding back, something he was not telling her.  
  
"Faith I trust you but I don't think this is a good idea."  
  
"Ian I don't know how you know Gabriel but believe me you're going to tell me, later. For now, we have no other choice. Gabriel's a good friend and I trust him." Faith banged on the door until she was sure Gabe heard her.  
  
"Who is it?'  
  
"Its me, Faith! Open up."  
  
"Faith you don't understand." Ian's words were ignored. He stopped when the locks turned and the door flew open. The young entrepreneur sported a huge smile on his face. He walked out and engulfed Faith into a hug. For a brief moment, it was a sweet reunion until Gabe's eyes landed on the dark figure leaning against the wall.  
  
"Whoa what the hell?!" Gabe yelled as he pushed away from Faith's arms. He raised both hands, his fingers pointing at Ian, "Keep that psycho freak away from me!" Gabe staggered backwards. Faith reached out for Gabe, trying to reassure him that it was okay, "Gabriel wait!" The startled man started to back away into his apartment all the while mumbling 'no, no way' over and over. Faith's head snapped as she turned her attention from Gabriel to Ian, giving him a scathing look. Faith narrowed her eyes and said, "Ian Christian Nottingham, just what the hell did you do to him?!" Ian innocently looked back.  
  
"I tried to tell you." He shrugged his shoulders, hearing Gabriel muttering under his breath somewhere in the apartment. He tried to continue but Faith raised her hand, halting whatever else, he was going to say. "We are going to have a serious talk later." A conversation needed to be discussed inside and not out in the hallway. Now she needed to somehow convince Gabriel to help her. Ironic how earlier she was afraid that Gabe wouldn't help her, but after seeing her friend's reaction she would be surprised if he did. If by some chance he was still willing to help then she was definitely going to need a serious talk with him as well. For now, she needed to get Ian inside and settled.  
  
Faith was grateful that Gabe hadn't closed the door on her face. At least it meant he wasn't going to shut her out completely. Faith reached over to Ian, wrapping an arm around his waist while he wrapped his arm over her shoulders. With a grunt, he pushed off from the wall and let Faith support most of his weight. As they slowly made their way in Faith whispered, "You have a lot of explaining to do." Ian nodded. For now all he wanted to do was make it in, hold out long enough to find a chair and collapse in it.  
  
Gabe stopped pacing the floor of his workshop and looked up to see Faith helping Ian inside. He stood there for a moment, contemplating on what he should do. He stared from Faith to Ian and back to Faith again. They had been friends for a while now and he trusted her. Perhaps if Faith was willing to trust Ian Nottingham maybe he could push aside his differences and help. Faith was a good friend she wouldn't place him in a dangerous situation, intentionally. Would she? Gabe gulped at the thought then shook his head, 'no I can trust Faith,' he thought.  
  
Against his own better judgment, Gabe quickly closed the door behind them and locked it. Then he made his way on the other side of Ian, took his arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Ian nodded his appreciation after they settled him in an empty chair near Gabe's computer desk. Gabe nodded in return but still kept his distance by taking a few steps back. Faith took off her coat. Gabe froze, eyes widen when he seen the apparatus on Faith's arms. 'God I hope I wasn't wrong in trusting Faith.' Gabe prayed as his doubts ran through his mind.  
  
Faith sensed Gabriel's uneasiness and followed his gaze down to her arms. She rolled her eyes, with a little shake of her head, she quickly took her weapons off, and placed them on the coat she laid on the desk. She moved over to Ian to check how he was holding up. She had to admit he was looking better but not by much. "I'll be right back, guys." Faith got up and headed for the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" Both men questioned.  
  
Gabe's voice was a little shaky. He was rather reluctant to be left alone with Ian Nottingham. Even though the aforementioned assassin looked rather worn down and exhausted. However, he was not sure what the man was capable of even in his current condition.  
  
"Easy guys I'll be right back. I just need to grab a few things from the car. Behave while I'm gone." Faith warned before running out of the apartment. The door closed behind her with a loud thud. Gabe stared at the closed door then turned to look at Ian. Quickly Gabriel began wandering absently around the room, fixing and rearranging items around his workshop, all the while keeping a wary eye on Nottingham.  
  
"Don't worry Mr. Bowman I won't hurt you." Ian's soft voice was uncharacteristic to Gabe's ears. Making him feel I little more nervous then usual. This was not the same brooding man that threatened him months ago. The man sitting in his chair was beat and a bit dejected. 'Just what the hell happened to him?' Gabe thought.  
  
"Well forgive me but you can't really blame for my nervousness, can you? From what I recall you practically threatened me to stay away from Sara. If I didn't you'd have my head. I mean that is the first impression you were going for right, Nottingham. Or could I have been mistaken?" Gabe continued to ramble. Not knowing where the sudden burst of energy came from. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude but that's not something one forgets." Gabe ran a shaky hand through his hair. "By the way you forgot your shrunken head. You did pay for it." Gabe added, why he did was beyond him.  
  
A small smile crept across Ian's face taking a notice of the daring in the young man's voice. Ian continued to listen as he remembered their first encounter. He was sent by Irons with one purpose in mind to persuade the Bowman child, as Irons had put it, from helping Sara learn anything dealing with the Witchblade. Irons wanted to sever off any other outlet of knowledge pertaining towards the Witchblade, leaving him the sole provider of such information.  
  
Ian had followed through on Irons' orders by visiting Gabriel, provided some money, and a warning to stay away from Sara. He was sure the young man took heed of his warning. However, Ian was surprised when he seen Gabriel openly talking to Sara in front to the precinct the next day. He had told her about Ian's visit and the supposed threat on his life. When asked why he still came to her his answer was simple, 'Cause I pick my own friends.' In addition, his fascination with the strange and arcane peaked when he found out that Sara actually possessed the Witchblade.  
  
The two quickly became friends and Gabriel continued to provide his assistance when it came to the Witchblade or anything else he could help with. Ian had to admire the younger man's daring. Not many went against Irons and lived. There was also a hint of jealousy as well. Here was a man that gained not only Sara's trust but also her friendship and love. Something Ian had wanted to achieve. However, he knew it was impossible.  
  
On the other end, Ian was grateful that Sara had someone like Gabriel Bowman as a friend. Not many could handle Sara Pezzini, which was why she had so little friends. The young man had a courageous spirit and showed a sense of loyalty when it came to Sara. He was the kind of friend Sara needed. Someone strong and wouldn't be put off by her passionate attitude. However, the boy's sarcastic mouth and tenacious attitude could get him into more trouble then its worth.  
  
Ian never confronted Gabriel again. Instead, he took the opportunity by using Gabriel as an outlet to pass important information regarding the Witchblade to Sara. Information that could not be so easily found on the Internet. However, no one knew what Ian was doing. He could not risk Irons' ire and Sara would only doubt the worthiness of the information thinking it was another ploy from Irons to control the Witchblade.  
  
"You can keep your head. I never wanted it in the first place." Ian finally said. Gabe stared at Ian not knowing if he was talking about his or the shrunken head. Somehow, he had a feeling it was the former that Ian was referring. Gabe swallowed the lump in his throat and reached for his neck. Before Gabe could say anything Faith walked back into the apartment, locking the door behind her.  
  
Faith stared between the two before moving over to Ian. Shaking the feeling, that something had happened while she was gone. She knelt in front of Ian the medical bag in one hand and a shirt, she had found in the trunk, in the other. "I've got to stitch up some of your wounds." Ian nodded his head. Faith turned her attention to Gabriel. "Gabe I know I'm asking for a lot but I need your help. You are the only one I know that I can trust. Look I promise I'll explain what's going on but I need to know now if you're going to help me, us?" Faith pleaded. 


	49. Chapter forty nine

In all the years, he had known Faith this was the first time Gabriel had seen her show any signs of weakness. He looked from Faith to the man barely hanging on in his chair. 'Nottingham must mean a great deal to her.' He thought. Several different scenarios ran through his mind, most were not good. Nevertheless, hearing the plea in Faith's voice did him in. He always held a soft spot for her, who was he kidding; he pretty much has a schoolboy crush on the woman. How could he let her down by saying no?  
  
Gabe nodded, "Of course I'll help you, Faith. On one condition, you tell me everything. I mean it. I want a full explanation, deal?" Faith let out the breath she had been holding and smiled, "You don't know how grateful I am. Thank you Gabriel. I promise to tell you everything but for now help me with him. He's got some pretty nasty wounds that need stitching and I have to clean him up."  
  
"You can use my bed. Hold on let me clear it up for you." Gabe disappeared behind a door. A minute later, he reappeared and helped Faith guide Ian to the bedroom. They entered and Faith stared at the chaotic state of his room. She snorted at Gabe's meaning of 'clearing things up.' He must have just run an arm across the bed, pushing anything that was on it onto the floor. Pillows, blankets, and sheets, with some of the corners still tucked under the mattress, were tossed to the floor. Articles upon articles of clothes were everywhere. "Very nice, Gabe." He caught Faith's knowing look, "Hey I'm a bachelor I'm allowed to be messy." Faith just rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Grab the discarded sheet and lay it across the bed. I'm going to have to clean him up and I don't want to ruin your bed." Gabe quickly covered the bed as best as he could and returned to Ian's side.  
  
Before settling Ian down onto the bed, Faith made quick work on removing his shoes and clothes. Gabe stared appalled at the condition the assassin was in. Blood, bruises, and cuts all covered Ian's naked body. Gabe was sure there was not one part of flesh that was not untouched. "Gabriel? Gabriel!" Faith yelled snapping Gabe out of his stunned stupor. "What?" he uttered. "I need to clean up some of this blood. Could you please fill up a large basin full of warm soapy water and I need some wash cloths?" Gabe shook his head, mumbling a 'yeah sure' and disappeared into his bathroom.  
  
Gabe soon returned with the water and handful of towels draped over his shoulder. Ian sat on the bed, his hands gripping the edge as he held himself erect. Gabe knelt down on the ground, placing the basin between him and Faith. He handed her half of the washcloths and towels while he kept the rest. Faith watched as Gabe wrings the cloth of extra water and reach for Ian's right arm. Faith reached out with her hand, "Gabriel you don't have to do this I got it." He turned his eyes on Faith, "I offered my help, Faith. It, uh, extends to him too if he'll accept it?" Gabe motioned his head towards Ian. Who was a bit surprised at the young man's offer? "Thank you Mr. Bowman." Ian whispered. "Thanks, Gabe. But you really don't have to do this." Faith was giving him a way out in case he had changed his mind. Gabe grinned and motioned his head towards Ian, "You get that side and I'll get this."  
  
"Alright just be gentle. He's sporting some mean bruises and a few cuts but the worst wounds are on his back. Just clean off as much as you can."  
  
"Just be quick about it. I don't know how long I can hold myself up." Ian added.  
  
After three basins of soiled water and blood soaked washcloths, Faith began to unwrap the redden bandages around Ian's body. Gabe stood frozen in his spot, watching Faith meticulously separate the bandages, slowly exposing flesh. Gabe nearly threw up at the site. He forced his eyes closed, forcing down the bile that had risen to his throat. After several deep breaths, Gabe opened his eyes and stared shockingly at Nottingham's back. It was a terrible site of marred flesh, new and old scars, and deeply opened wounds.  
  
"Holy shit," Gabe whispered as he finally found his voice, "What happened to him?"  
  
Faith bunched up the soiled bandages and threw it into the small trash bin near the bed. Gabe could see her face-harden and her jaw clenched. "Irons!" She finally spat out as she guided Ian onto the bed face down. She took another washcloth and quickly began to clean as much as she could of Ian's bloody back.  
  
"Why? I mean Nottingham it this supposed assassin. I never thought anyone could get a drop on him, let alone Irons." Gabe asked dumbfounded. Up until now, he thought Nottingham was practically bulletproofed, invincible, and plainly indestructible. Gabe's image of the dark assassin was washed away like the bowls of pinkish water he been dumping down the drain. Nottingham was human after all and surprisingly he could not help but feel sorry for the guy.  
  
Faith shook her head, "I have an idea why this happened to him but the events that lead him up to this is beyond me. I'll have to wait until he tells me what happened. As for Irons," Faith sighed, "never underestimate Kenneth Irons. He has his ways when dealing with difficult situations." Faith dropped the used cloth into the basin. Gabe picked it up and headed for the bathroom. "Sounds like you know Irons pretty well." He threw over his shoulder. Faith could sense Gabe's curiosity.  
  
"More then I'd like to." She muttered under her breath. "Hand me the medical bag." She pointed towards the dresser as he walked back into the room. Gabe picked up the bag and handed it to her. "He needs to get to a hospital, Faith." "No!" Gabe offensively took a step back his arms raised in mock surrender as she responded keenly. He remained in the room but kept his distance. Faith inhaled and tried to relax. Replaying in a softer tone, "Sorry Gabe but no I can't take Ian to the hospital. If I do, Irons will find him. Believe me Ian is safer here." She had pulled out the necessary items that she needed.  
  
"I understand Faith but his wounds are really bad and he needs a doctor to," Gabe let his sentence trail off as she began to work on Ian's back, stitching the more severe wounds. Gabe winced every time the needle passed through flesh. Throughout the whole ordeal, Ian made no sound or movement. Somehow, Gabe was not all too surprised. Gabe stared in awe the way Faith expertly worked on Ian. He averted his attention from Ian's back to Faith. Her brows were furrowed and lips pursed in concentration. Her busy hands sustained a certain rhythm, never faltering as she worked. It was like watching a surgeon at work.  
  
Gabriel realized that there was so much he did not know about Faith. Heck, he didn't even know her last name. Not that she had ever mentioned it before in the past. 'What was she hiding?' He thought. With his mind set Gabe was determined to find out before she disappeared from the face of the earth again. Faith snipped away the excess thread, carefully putting the needle back into the bag. She began digging through the contents of the bag and pulled out another roll of white gauze and a tube of some sort of medication.  
  
She unscrewed the cap and applied a coat of medicated salve onto the wounds. "There done just let me wash my hands and Gabe I'll need your help wrapping him up." Faith sat up from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. 


	50. Chapter fifty

Faith returned from the bathroom. She walked over to the bed and picked up the medical bag. She searched the contents of the bag and pulled out two items; a roll of gauze and a filled syringe that she sat down on the nightstand. Placing the bag down on the floor, she motioned Gabe to help. They quickly wrapped Ian and gently laid him face down onto the bed. Faith picked up the blanket off the floor, covering Ian's naked body. She sat at the edge of the bed while Gabe stood by the door. She reached over to the nightstand and picked up the syringe.  
  
"What is that?" Gabe questioned.  
  
"It's a mild sedative."  
  
"No!" Ian had weakly protested. He tried to turn over but Faith placed a hand on his bare shoulder, stopping him. "Yes! I know you Ian and with you're stubborn streak you'll push yourself whether you are physically ready or not the first chance you will get. I am not going to take that chance. You gave me your word that you will stay here and rest. Are you going back on our deal, Ian?"  
  
"No" Ian mumbled then added, "what about Sara?"  
  
Faith grinned, 'the man has a one track mind.' She got off the bed and knelt in front of him. She reached out to push the loose locks away from his face and cupped his cheek. "I'm not backing out of our deal either. I gave you my word. Unless you think of me incapable of properly watching over your lady?"  
  
Ian shook his head, "No."  
  
"All right then. Now whatever Dr. Immo gave you seems to be working." She sneaked a glance at Gabe standing by the door; she noticed how he kept his distance. She was not sure if it was to give them some space or a head start just in case he needed to make a run for the door. Probably it was a mixture of both. Before leaving Faith was going to find out what happened between those two. Faith leaned in and whispered, "Now I don't know what happened between you and Gabriel though I will find out," Ian was about to interrupt but Faith cut him off and continued, "However he's been more then willing to help us out. I want you to be on your best behavior while I'm gone and don't be a pain in the ass, all right?" Ian smirked and nodded his head.  
  
"Are you still going to give me the sedative?" Ian asked curiously. Hoping, she had changed her mind. With half of his face buried into the mattress, Ian attempted the 'look.' Faith's features soften and she frowned. She gently laid her hand on his cheek. "Oh Ian," she sighed her features had turned serious, "damn straight I will." Ian rolled his eye and groaned. Faith could not help but laugh.  
  
"I'll be back as soon as I can. Sleep well, Ian." Faith injected the contents of the syringe and moments later Ian was knocked out. She pulled the blanket higher on his body. She continued to kneel besides him, watching as he slept. She reached out and placed the loose locks behind his ear. She let her fingers trace his eyebrow and then down his bearded cheek. She continued to caress his face giving her the reassurance that he was here and indeed alive. The image of his battered body hanging by those chains was still fresh in her mind. Tears began to roll down her face thinking how close she came to losing him.  
  
"Hey he's going to be okay." Faith felt Gabe's hand on her shoulder. She nodded her head and wiped away the tears. Before standing up, she knelt forward, placing a kiss on Ian's forehead. "I love you, Ian." It was barely a whisper but Gabe could not help but over hear what she said.  
  
"Look I'm going to make us some coffee, all right." Gabe offered trying to hide the pang of disappointment, he felt. He should have known, he stood there watching the way she treated him, how they responded to each other. There was definitely something there.  
  
"Yeah okay. I'll be right out. I'm just going to freshen up a bit. Then I'll meet you in the kitchen."  
  
Gabe started for the door but Faith stopped him. He turned to see the weary look in her eyes and Gabe pulled her to his arms and gave her a tight hug. "Thank you, angel." She whispered into his ear. He smiled at the endearment. No one but Faith had called him that. It was her nickname for him. At first, he had hated it but over time, it grew on him and it became something special. Something that only they would share.  
  
"I'm your angel." He amusingly replied.  
  
She pulled back slightly in his arms and rewarded Gabe with one of her beautiful smiles. "That's right. You're my angel." She said. Gabe could not help but stare deeply into the navel pools of her eyes. Faith's smile faded as Gabe leaned in. He stared from her lips to her eyes then back to her lips again. He paused in his decent giving Faith time to back out. When she showed no signs Gabe closed the distance and lightly pressed his soft lips against hers.  
  
The sweet and innocent kiss quickly heated up as Gabe's tongue traced her lips. Teasing them to open and when she finally did he wasted not time to delve deeper. Using his eager tongue to explore and probe her mouth. Faith moaned, lost in the kiss. The pangs of reality began to tap her on her shoulder. The need for air and the necessity to stop finally gave Faith the willpower to break the kiss. She pulled back and lowered her head. Without giving Gabe the chance to say or do anything Faith breathlessly said, "How about that coffee."  
  
'Coffee?' It took a minute for Gabe's clouded mind too clear. When it did, he could not believe what just happened. Did he really just kiss Faith? He pursed his lips together and the distinctive taste of her still lingered. Oh yeah, they kissed all right and what and incredible kiss it was. Gabe stole a glance at Ian's unconscious form and like a splash of cold water, it hit him. Was it not just a matter of moments that Faith had told Ian she loved him? 'What are you doing, Bowman?' His mind began to reel he did not hear Faith.  
  
"Angel? Gabriel!"  
  
"Huh?" He stared at her.  
  
"The Coffee?"  
  
"Coffee? Oh right, yeah I'll just, uh, you know." Gabe stammered. He turned around making his way out. Mumbling under his breath, "Stupid Bowman really stupid!"  
  
Faith watched as Gabe leaves the room and when she knew he was out of earshot, she muttered to herself, "stupid Faith really stupid!" She headed toward the bathroom and attempted to cool off. She emerged from the bathroom. Faith looked down at Ian and sat besides him, running the back of her hand down his face. She turned to stare at the closed door. On the other side was Gabriel, her angel, her friend.  
  
'Friend' she thought. Gabriel is her friend or was depending how things will turn out when she left the room. Though her lips still tingled from the kiss, she knew that in her heart nothing more was going to come out of it. Faith had always known how he felt about her and it was quite flattering that someone actually felt that way towards her.  
  
However, she just did not feel the same way. Perhaps if he had been older or she was younger then who knows what would have happen between them. Unfortunately, Faith knew for sure that nothing but friendship was going to come out of their relationship. She heaved a sigh and tried to think about what she was going to say. She didn't want to hurt Gabriel's feelings but he needed to know where he stood in her life. She just hoped that he still wanted to remain in her life as a friend.  
  
"Smart move, Bowman. Cannot believe I made a pass. Wonder what she's going to do?" He worriedly sighed as he aimlessly wandered the kitchen. He wrapped his left arm across his chest while he nervously bit down on his right thumbnail. He turned to look at the closed bedroom door. His heart started to beat faster as it opened. Faith quietly walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Gabe greeted her when she turned around, "Hey."  
  
"Hi," was her reply.  
  
They both stood there in an uncomfortable silence. The tension had finally gotten to Faith first, "We need to talk, angel." She exclaimed. Gabe nodded his head in agreement and led her to the kitchen. They sat down near the table and faced each other. Faith started to speak but he quickly interrupted. Gabe shot up from his seat and began pacing in front of her, his head down, only glancing at her occasionally. Faith leaned back her seat, watching and listening as Gabe animatedly spoke.  
  
"Look Faith I'm not going to apologize for kissing you. I'm not sorry that it happened." Faith remained silent Gabe knew he had her full attention now. "Why should I be sorry for something I've wanted to do for years. I like you Faith. I mean I really like you. I have had a crush on you of since the first day we met. I mean I've even fantasized," Gabe caught Faith's surprised expression. He realized he was giving just a little too much information. He cleared his throat and started again.  
  
"But I digress. As much as I want something, more to happen in our relationship, that I know it isn't possible. You don't feel the same way as I do and I can accept that. Besides I know you're in love with Nottingham." Faith's brows shot up and her eyes widen. "Sorry I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I overheard you telling him." Faith nodded as she hid the grin behind her hand.  
  
"I love you, Faith. You're important to me and I would hate to lose you. I hope that this hasn't ruined our friendship." Gabe exhaled as he finished. He looked questioningly at Faith's amused expression.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you done, Bowman?"  
  
"Yeah"  
  
Faith motioned him to sit back down. She reached forward and clasped his hands between hers. 'Here it comes' Gabe thought. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You are a true angel, Gabriel Bowman." She grinned at the bemused look on his face. "Here I was worried that I'd have to convince you that nothing more was going to come out of that kiss. Angel, look I've always known how you felt about me but as much as I want to return the feelings, I can't."  
  
He knew there was no a chance but hearing it from her still hurt. He tried to hide the disappointment and lowered his head. Faith caught his chin and lifted his head until his eyes locked with hers. "But that doesn't mean I don't love you, angel. You're a great friend and I don't want to lose you either." He stared into those beautiful sapphire orbs of hers and knew she meant it. Faith watched as the disappointment in his eyes disappeared only to be replaced first with acceptance then love.  
  
"So you mean I just spilt my guts out for nothing?" Faith smiled at his amused tone. She knew then that everything between them was going to be okay.  
  
"I wouldn't say for nothing, Angel. I mean I did find out one important information." Gabe lifted his brows, "What's that?"  
  
"That you've fantasized about me. Come on Bowman, spill." Gabe began to blush and because of his fair complexion, he glowed a bright red. Faith grinned. The tension was gone and they were left in a comfortable silence.  
  
"Faith could I ask you a question?"  
  
"Sure" Faith gave him her undivided attention.  
  
"About the kiss?" He sheepishly asked.  
  
Faith smiled, leaning in to stroke his cheek. "You're one hell of a kisser, Gabriel Bowman. That kiss is something I will never forget. Whomever you end up with angel is going to be one lucky woman." Gabe beamed proudly, "Really?" Faith nodded her head. "Now, about that cup of coffee?"  
  
Gabe sat up from his chair and made his way over to the counter to the coffee maker. Faith had a question for him while he poured out the coffee. "Angel, what makes you think I'm in love with Ian?" Gabe returned to the table with two mugs. He placed one down in front of her.  
  
"Well the fact that I heard you tell Nottingham that you loved him is a given and it just appeared that you two share a history together. I just assumed," Gabe trailed off as he stared at Faith's amused expression. "Okay Faith I think its time we had that talk now. You know the one where you tell me everything." She indeed promised but she was not sure what to tell him. Well first things first. Faith took a cautious sip of her coffee before explaining.  
  
"Your right I do love Ian. I mean I wouldn't be here if I didn't. However, angel I think you might have misunderstood. I'm not in love with Ian Nottingham."  
  
"You're not?" Faith shook her head.  
  
"I mean you two looked I dunno. I just thought, you know, there was something going on between you two."  
  
"You're right we do share a long history together but nothing intimate has ever happened between us. My relationship with Ian is rather," Faith paused searching for the right word, "complicated. My love for Ian is solely based on how one should feel towards a brother."  
  
"Wait! You're his sister?!" Gabe's mouth dropped open, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find some resemblance but found none. They were complete opposites. Her blonde hair against Nottingham's darker color. Her blue eyes in contrast to his brown. Though Faith was rather tall, there was nothing he could see. Everything was just different.  
  
"We're not of the same blood but we do share a sort of sibling bond. You could say we've grown up together." Things were starting to click but Gabe was still unsure.  
  
"Rumor has it that Nottingham is Kenneth Irons' son."  
  
"Believe me angel when I tell you that Irons is not Ian Nottingham's biological father."  
  
"Is he yours?" Faith averted her eyes. "Does Irons look like father figure to you?" She said before taking a sip of her coffee.  
  
Gabe shook his head. He had a feeling Faith was hiding something but he knew better then to probe deeper for information. It appeared she wasn't going to say anything more on that matter. Seeing the curiosity on his face, Faith added, "Don't worry angel I'll satiate that curious mind of yours and tell you everything in due time. Its just that now is not exactly the best time. Okay?" Gabe reluctantly agreed.  
  
"Now its my turn. What happened between you and Ian?" Gabe started explaining his first and only meeting with the brooding assassin. Not once mentioning anything dealing with the Witchblade.  
  
"So Ian threatened you to stay away from Det. Pezzini, stop providing her with 'information', and if not he'd have your head. Though regardless of his threats, you still went to see her, helped her, and ended up being friends. In addition, you still have your head. Hm, Ian must like you." Gabe nearly choked on his coffee.  
  
"What?! Faith the man threatened to kill me if I didn't stay away from Sara."  
  
"I'm very aware of that. Mostly likely Ian was on orders from Irons. However, believe me when I say that Ian does not dish out idle threats. He will make due on them if someone chooses to ignore it. Nevertheless, think about it Gabriel you still went to see Sara became friends with her and your head is still attached to your body. Either he likes you or he's been using you." Faith downed the rest of her coffee and got up to refill her cup.  
  
"How could he be using me if we've only met once."  
  
"What exactly is this type of 'information' you've been helping Sara with?" Gabe remained silent. Not sure, that he should share anything about the Witchblade or that Sara was the wielder.  
  
"It wouldn't happen to involve, oh I don't know, a certain bracelet known as the Witchblade would it? Or the fact that Det. Sara Pezzini is the current wielder of the blade?" Gabe turned in his chair, a surprised look on his face. Nonchalantly, Faith leaned back against the counter, slowly sipping her coffee.  
  
"Tell me angel, did you get that dossier about Elizabeth Bronte? Was it helpful to the wielder?"  
  
"You sent that to me?"  
  
Faith nodded her head, "Actually I sent the information to Ian and he must have sent it to you. Don't get me wrong angel, your hacking skills are exceptional but honestly do you think information such as that could be easily found on the Internet?"  
  
Gabe felt confused, grateful, and angry all at the same time. Both Nottingham and Faith had used him.  
  
"Now don't get mad, angel. I did not realize you were the 'angelic messenger' Ian was referring."  
  
"Just how much do you know about the Witchblade?"  
  
"I know enough." She vaguely answered.  
  
"Have you ever," he looked down are her bare right wrist, "worn it?"  
  
"Angel, you know that the blade is not kind to pretenders. They are left both emotionally and physically scarred. Do I look like I've been scarred in any way?" Gabe had a feeling that she was trying to avoid answering him. Before he could say anything, Faith placed her empty mug in the sink and said, "I have to go." Gabe shot up from his seat.  
  
"Wait a minute you're not leaving me here alone with Nottingham are you?" Gabe followed Faith back to the computer desk where she had left her coat and weapons.  
  
"I have to go. Angel, don't worry I've already told Ian to be on his best behavior. He won't do anything to you."  
  
"That's a comforting thought."  
  
"Besides he's sedated. He'll be out for a few hours. Help me with this will you." She handed him one of her weapons. She turned her arm over so he could secure the straps but immediately stopped him when she noticed where he was standing, directly in front, which was a very dangerous place to be. "It would be safer if you stepped over to the side." Gabe shrugged his shoulders and did as told. After fastening the last strap he asked, "Why did you want me to stand here?" Faith gladly showed him. Gabe stared wide- eyed as the long blade slide out. "Oh that's why." After fastening the last strap on the second device, Gabe helped Faith into her coat.  
  
"Why can't you stay here? Where are you going?" Faith began explaining the details of the agreement between Ian and her.  
  
"I can't stay. I gave Ian my word that I would watch over Sara. If I didn't he would have gone himself battered body and all." Plus there was the fact that there was some crazed clone with a short fuse out on the loose, and it scared the shit out of Ian to know he was out there watching over Sara. However, Faith kept that little secret to herself. She could only guess how Gabe was going to react in knowing that his friend might be in danger.  
  
"Ah, from what I've heard Nottingham has been stalking Sara." Faith shook her head.  
  
"She sees it as stalking, I see it as protecting. Irons are not the only evil element that wants to control the Witchblade and its wielder. Believe me he has been protecting her. Now it is my turn until Ian gets better. Here is my cell number. Call me if something happens." Faith wrote down the number. She rolled her eyes at the worried expression on Gabe's face.  
  
"I meant if something happens to Ian, all right. Now remember no one knows he's here and I'd like to keep it that way." Gabe reluctantly nodded his head.  
  
"I'll be back as soon as I can, angel." Gabe watched as the door closed behind her. 


	51. Chapter fifty one

~*~  
  
Irons sat in his chair in front of the fire contemplating over recent events. Almost immediately, after hanging up on Nottingham, another call had come through. The security guard had informed him that Dr. Immo could not be found. He was neither on the estate or at home. Calls were attempted but there were no answer to his office or from his cell. Irons considered the possibilities of Immo's involvement in Ian's escape.  
  
It was no secret that Immo held s soft spot for the boy but would he go far enough to go against Irons? Would he have taken Ian out of the mansion and somewhere safe? 'No' Irons thought. Dr. Immo was not stupid enough to go against him. The doctor valued his life and would do anything to preserve it. No, someone else had helped Ian.  
  
Unfortunately, until Immo was found Irons was stuck with questions and speculations. Besides himself, Immo, and Ian who else would know where to look? Who else would have the knowledge about what lay deep within the mansion? Suddenly a thought occurred to him. His eyes widen at the possible realization. Without waiting for Nottingham's return, Irons quickly got up from his seat and made his way down to the lab. There could have only been one person who would risk their life to save Ian. He had to find Immo; he was the only person who could verify Irons suspicions.  
  
The tapings of the cane echoed loudly in the sterile hallway. Irons hasten his steps after passing Immo's empty lab. He started towards the torture room. Apprehension ran down his spine as he punched in the pass code. He stood back as the doors hissed and unlocked. Irons reached forward, grabbing the side of the door and pulling it back. His shock was evident as he gasped from what he found. Now, he knew the explanation why Immo could not be found. The man was chained up and unconscious.  
  
Irons walked up to Immo's unconscious form. Using the handle of the cane, Irons began tapping against Immo's chest eager for the man to regain conscious. "Dr. Immo?" When he didn't respond Irons began slapping the side of Immo's face. Finally, after much coaxing Immo started to stir. "Immo!" Irons voice grew louder.  
  
"Uh.." Immo groggily replied.  
  
"Immo wake up! What happened?" Irons patience was waning.  
  
"Ian.escaped" Immo groaned as he tried to move. His arms felt as if they were going to rip out of his body, his wrists felt like they were burning and that his head was about to explode.  
  
"I can see that, Dr. Immo. What I don't understand is how Ian was able to escape?" Irons tucked the handle of the cane under Immo's chin and lifted his face, "Who took him?"  
  
Immo stared back through half lidded eyes and blurted out the one word, "Faith."  
  
So, his suspicions were correct. 'Faith,' a name he thought he'd never hear again. "After all these years she has risen from the dead and finally returned home." So many questions began running through his mind. What had she been doing all these years? Why she came back was easy enough to answer. She had returned for Ian but how did she know? It was obvious Ian had known about Faith. How long had Ian known about Faith? These were questions that he was determined to find out. Although one important question needed to be answered, "Where are they now?"  
  
~*~  
  
Faith had immediately spotted Ian's clone perched on Sara's fire escape when she had first arrived. Faith watched from the alley across the street from Sara's building. She stood in the shadows while waiting for the other to leave. This surprisingly did not take long. Not soon, after she had arrived the clone received a call and prepared to leave. 'Wonder if Irons had found Immo yet?' Faith thought.  
  
Faith pressed closer to the wall as the clone unknowingly passed her. She watched him walk down the street to his car. She waited until the taillights of the car grow distant before stepping out of the shadows. By the time she had reached Sara's fire escape the car was gone, heading back to the mansion. It was strange seeing Ian's clone. Even without the beard, the resemblances were uncanny but that was as far as the likeness went.  
  
Although Faith only watched from a distance, she now understood why Ian was so fearful of this one. The clone held a sort of feral aura. She could tell not only in the way that he looked but also in the way he held himself, walked, moved. Overly confidant, arrogant, and undisciplined. A predator without fear, without limits. A very dangerous combination. Everything that Immo had told her and if what he said was true this thing, this freak of scientific nature was going to snap. Perhaps not now but very soon. Moreover, the terrifying thought that kept popping up into her mind was that this thing was physically superior to Ian. That in itself was dangerous. Who could possible be able to stop him then?  
  
Faith caught a red glint from the corner of her eye. She turned her head to look into the apartment. There on the bed was Sara; wielder of the Witchblade, and the continued way she thrashed about Faith knew that she was caught in some sort of dream or vision. The blade grew brighter on Sara's wrist, capturing Faith's attention. It has been years since she had seen the powerful weapon and from the looks of it, the blade hadn't forgotten her either.  
  
Faith absently reached forward to place her palm against the glass, and unlike the red protective glow that lit up while Nottingham was around, it gave off a light pinkish hue. A soft click was heard and the window slightly opened. Faith cautiously pushed at the window, opening it wider, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the blade. The glow dimmed as if it was inviting her in. She knew never to question the blade's motives but instead act upon them. Before entering she looked around making sure no one was watching her. Her eyes stopped at the lone figure standing underneath the streetlamp. The figure nodded his head, without knowing why Faith nodded in response and immediately obeyed. All the while thinking, 'who the hell was that?'  
  
Faith quietly crept in and closed the window behind her. She stood there for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Scanning the apartment, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. Silently she began to move around the apartment, aimlessly wandering from one end of the loft to the other. Cautiously touching, looking at all the things that adorn Sara's apartment. Occasionally Faith would stop to study the many photographs that were spread out across the loft. In the corner Faith had eyed a set of drums and a guitar lying against the near by wall.  
  
She then moved over to the heavy bag that was set in another corner. Suppressing the urge to take her frustration out on the inanimate object, Faith instead gave it a playful jab. Faith spared a glance at Sara's prone form. From the looks of Sara's toned body and the obvious beaten look of the bag the woman must be in exceptional shape. Faith grinned at the thought of asking Ms. Pezzini for a sparring session. 'Now that would be fun. Wonder who Ian will bet on?' she amusingly wondered. She reached out to steady the swaying bag before moving over to the bed.  
  
Faith stopped half way when noticed a silver ring on the nightstand. She picked it up, tilting her head as she studied the design. Immediately she knew it was Ian's ring. The same ring that he had since he was a child, the very one that he never took off. Nevertheless, why did Sara have it? Did Ian give it to her?  
  
'No,' she thought. Though Ian had never delved any information of the type of relationship he had with the wielder, Faith knew that Ian had some deep feelings for the woman. She would not be surprised if Ian was actually in love with Sara Pezzini. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure that one. All anyone would have to do was look into his eyes. They are the doors to his soul. Nevertheless, from what she had learned so far, Sara did not think to highly of Ian. Plus, the added fact that he worked for Irons didn't help much with his image in Sara's eyes.  
  
'Yet, it still does not explain about the ring. He would not have given up something this precious to anyone. Not even to Sara, unless,' her thoughts wondered to the call she received from Ian. She had now way of knowing what had happened to him before the call. However, she was able to detect that something wasn't right. Ian had sounded so distant and hurt. In addition, she had a feeling that Sara might have been the cause of it.  
  
Faith placed the ring back on the nightstand and moved over to the wall near the fire escape window. She leaned back with her arms crossed against her chest. Faith stared at Sara and said aloud, "Wielder, looks like you and I are going to have a heart to heart later."  
  
~*~ 


	52. Chapter fifty two

~*~  
  
"How can you help me with Irons?" Sara asked a bit skeptical that Elizabeth could be of any help to her.  
  
"It all depends on you, Sara."  
  
"What do you mean? I thought you said you could help me, Elizabeth." Sara tried hard to keep her anger in check but that didn't stop the frustration from lacing her voice.  
  
"No, I said that 'I believe I can help' and I can. Nevertheless, ultimately in the end it is all up to you Sara. How you perceive this entire dream will determine how you mold your relationship with your destined protector." Elizabeth calmly added. "I also believe that this little trip will help you better understand the relationship between Irons and Ian."  
  
"How is that possible? I mean no offense but didn't you die in the late 1950's? How would you know anything about the relationship between Ian and Irons?" Sara questioned.  
  
"Anything is possible in the world of the Witchblade, Sara." Elizabeth grinned at Sara's confused look. "Don't worry my dear your questions will be answered in due time. Just remember to keep an opened mind and you will do just fine." Suddenly a door magically appeared out of nowhere. This was definitely way beyond her confusion tolerance.  
  
"Shall we my dear?" Elizabeth reached for the handle and was about to open it when Sara unexpectedly stopped her. "Wait!"  
  
"What's wrong Sara?"  
  
"Uh, out of curiosity will I be riding shot gun through out this ride." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes on Sara a bit confused. "What I mean is that will I, uh, we be sharing your body?" Elizabeth eyes widen as the realization set in. Sara had been forced to share a first person point of view when it came to Cathain's memories. The look on Sara's face made it obvious that the experience, though necessary, was more then just a bit unnerving for her. Elizabeth couldn't really blame her; it had taken away her control. Something she cherished considerably.  
  
"What's wrong Sara didn't you like waking up in the arms of a handsome man. Especially a man like Ewan?" Elizabeth amusingly teased. Sara flushed at the memory of waking up in Ewan's arms.  
  
"Hey I'm not complaining. I mean what a way to wake up, right?" Sara paused trying to find the right words.  
  
"But." Elizabeth added.  
  
"But it just didn't feel right. I don't know how to explain it."  
  
"Its because Ewan was not meant for you, Sara. He was meant for Cathain, as Christian was meant of me." The same goes as how Ian is meant for you but Elizabeth did not mention that to Sara. She was unsure if Sara was ready to accept it yet. 'She's right' Sara thought. Every time she looked into Ewan's eyes. The love was there but they were not directed towards her but to Cathain. Those tender hazel eyes weren't meant for her but for someone else. Sara could not help but wonder if the next time she, see those familiar hazel eyes will it reflect those same feelings?  
  
'Don't count on it, Pezzini.' She wouldn't be too surprised if he hated her now especially with the way they had parted earlier that night. She had said some pretty harsh things to him in the past but last night was probably the worst. Nevertheless, it had been essential for her purpose. She was pushing him away to protect him. Seeing the doubts in Sara's eyes Elizabeth spoke.  
  
"You know Sara sometimes the what we think is the right choice, the right path is not always the best chosen course of action. Remember every thing we do now has a direct effect on the future. Sometimes what we thought was the right choice could cause drastic repercussions." Elizabeth briefly lowered her eyes, to hide the ever-familiar pain that reflected there.  
  
"What was Christian like?" Sara curiously asked.  
  
Elizabeth looked up; evidence of her pain replaced with mirth and love. "Christian was how should I put it. Unique in his own right." Elizabeth chuckled at the memory of her beloved. "He was a cocky bastard, very confidant, intelligent, loyal, trustworthy, and strong both physically and mentally. Unlike Cathain and Ewan, Christian and I shared a history before the Witchblade. We grew up together in small town near London."  
  
"Did you two ever date?"  
  
"No, I was this sophisticated college student who only had eyes for older men and he was this gawky teenage boy who had a crush on me. Nothing but friendship came out of our relationship. However, as I said he was very confident. He was determined, saying that we were soul mates and that we were meant to be together. That he would love no one but me. Of course back then I never believed in such rubbish. How was I to know it had turned out to be true. Unfortunately," Elizabeth's voice took on a sad note, "we did not have much time to indulge in our newfound love. Death had a way of sneaking in and interrupting life." A tear had managed to escape Elizabeth's eye, sliding down her face. "Ironically, it was because of death that had brought us back together after years apart."  
  
"I don't understand." Sara said.  
  
"They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I think it is best if I showed you, Sara." Elizabeth turned the knob and pushed open the door. Again, Sara had to shield her eyes from the bright light. "Remember watch with an open mind and learn, Sara, from my mistakes. Both woman passed through door and were immediately transported into another room. Sara blinked a few times to clear the haziness and focus to where she was. From her quick assessment, she was in a large room filled with people wearing black.  
  
Sara scanned the room for Elizabeth and found her just walking in through the doorway and to her surprise, Kenneth Irons followed close behind. "What the fuck?" Sara quickly covered her mouth, realizing that she had spoken aloud. She looked around the room but no one had paid any attention to her. She let out a sigh of relief remembering that this was a dream and her presence here held no significance. She was only allowed to watch and learn.  
  
Elizabeth maneuvered around the crowded room until she found the person she was looking for. All the while Kenneth followed closely behind. Elizabeth tapped the young woman on her shoulder. She turned around and immediately fell into Elizabeth's warm embrace. "Celeste, I'm so sorry for your lose my dear. I came as soon as I heard." Elizabeth held the young woman in her arms until her quivering shoulders stopped and her cries ceased.  
  
"I'm sorry Beth, I didn't mean to just."  
  
"Don't you dare apologize to me, Celeste. You've been through a lot." Elizabeth gently cupped her cheek. Using her thumb to wipe the tears away as they slid down her face. Celeste smiled weakly. Relived that Elizabeth was here, the woman had been her surrogate older sister. Her eyes shifted to the figure behind Elizabeth. Immediately recognizing Kenneth Irons, Celeste quickly plastered a fake smile and shielded her eyes, covering the hatred that bore deep within. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she noticed the rigid change in Celeste. Something was very wrong. How did she know Kenneth Irons?  
  
"Mr. Irons."  
  
Kenneth moved from behind and reached forward to grasped Celeste's hand in both of his. "Ms. Nottingham, please accept my deepest condolences for you and your family. Daniel was a wonderful man." Celeste held the urge to rip her hand out of his grip. "Thank you Mr. Irons." Kenneth gave her hand a finally squeeze before letting go.  
  
"How is it that the two of you know each other?" Elizabeth asked curiously.  
  
"I'm sorry my love. I thought you knew."  
  
"Unfortunately, Beth has been away from us for such a long time." Elizabeth lowered her head, feeling a bit guilty. "I'm sorry Beth I didn't mean it that way. I am sorry if I had made you feel uncomfortable. You had your reasons for leaving. Now, with the war finally over things are slowly going back to normal. I'm sorry."  
  
Elizabeth smiled, Celeste was right she had been away for far too long and now that she had the time she was going to make the most of it. By spending some time with what little friends and family, she had left. "Cel, I told you stop apologizing. I realized that I have been gone for too long but I am going to make it up. However, we will discuss that matter for later. So how is it that you two know each other?"  
  
"Celeste? I'm sorry to interrupt but some one is insistent on seeing you."  
  
"Excuse me for a moment." Elizabeth watched Celeste make her way into her father's old office and closing the door behind her. She returned her attention back to Kenneth.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Daniel Winslow was an employee of mine. He was part of my security staff for Vorshlag. Daniel had brought Ms. Nottingham to a company soirée a few years ago in New York. The man was in love with her even then. It is a shame that he had to die in a car accident before they were able to marry. It truly is a great loss. Daniel was an exceptional employee."  
  
"He was a great man." A deep rich voice added from behind. Elizabeth and Kenneth both turned around. "I apologize Mr. Irons I did not mean to impose on your conversation." The gentleman flashed an apologetic smile. Kenneth placed a false smile on his face and said, "Oh it is quite alright Mr. Nottingham. Indeed, you are right young Winslow was a great man. He will surely be missed." A small silence fell between them but there was no mistaking the tension that hung in the air.  
  
"How good to see you again, Christian." Elizabeth finally added when she had enough of the silence. 'My, he has changed quite a bit. The gawky teenager that she remembered was gone and here stood a man.' Elizabeth tried to push the thought aside. However, she still found herself staring at him. He was just as tall as Kenneth, but perhaps a few inches shorter. His dark, curly mop of hair just barely passed his ears, and unlike the mustache many of the men were so fond of, Christian sported a well-trimmed goatee. Then there were his eyes. 'My God were they always this expressive?' Elizabeth thought as she stared deeply into them.  
  
"It is always a pleasure seeing you again, my lady." Christian took her right hand and brushed his lips across the back. Under her coat sleeve, the red jewel of the blade glowed lightly. Christian caught site of the blade and grinned.  
  
Elizabeth watched as Christian let his lips linger onto the back of her hand a second longer before gently letting go. The moment his lips touched her skin a jolt of electricity rushed up from her right arm. She could have sworn she seen the glow of the blade under her dark sleeve. After releasing her hand, Elizabeth pulled her coat sleeve lower, attempting to hide the supposed ornate bracelet. 


	53. Chapter fifty three

Before they were able to delve into a conversation Christian was called away. "Chris your sister wishes to speak to you. She is in your father's study." He made his apologizes and headed off towards the study. Elizabeth watched as he disappeared inside. All the while oblivious that Irons was watching her. He had seen the blade glow under her sleeve. Questions began to rise and Irons was determined to find the answers. He had also seen the look on Elizabeth's face as Christian greeted her. Kenneth was furious. It was obvious she was taken by him.  
  
Elizabeth turned to Kenneth and he quickly hid the annoyance from his face. "Would you like something to drink my dear?" Elizabeth smiled and nodded her head. "That would be wonderful. Thank you." Kenneth took her right hand and kissed the back of it. Elizabeth watched as he lightly pressed his lips against her hand, his eyes darting between hers and the red eye of the blade. Nothing. No jolt of electricity running up her arm or the soft glow of the blade.  
  
Kenneth noticed too and a flash of irritation ran through his blue eyes. He smiled at her and released her hand. "I shall return with your drink my dear." Kenneth disappeared into the crowd. Welcoming the small respite, Elizabeth exhaled and stared down at the quiet bracelet. Why had it reacted to Christian? Is he connected with the Witchblade somehow? So many questions and not enough answers. She wasn't surprised though she had learned early on that the blade does things on its own with out the wielder's consent.  
  
Perhaps she should ask Kenneth since he had a vast amount of knowledge pertaining to the Witchblade. But quickly erased that thought from her mind remembering the tension between him and Christian. There was something going on between those two but she was unsure what. Now that she had the time, she was going to find out and uncover the truth.  
  
She rubbed the stone of the bracelet and images of Christian both the teenager she remembered and the man she was confronted by. Her eyes still could not believe the changes he had gone through. The squeak of his voice now replaced with a smooth, silky voice. The hard lines of his face told of a man who had gained much experience over time. Remembering how rough and callous his palms felt as he engulfed her petite hand into his, showing that he had worked hard through out those years.  
  
Then there were those caramel eyes of his. Eyes that never seem to change. Even the light in his eyes had not dulled all these years. They were still filled with life and laughter. Yet, as he held her gaze earlier she could not help but feel there was more hidden deep within. It had not been the first time he looked at her with such adoration. She's always known he had a crush on her. However, there was spark that went beyond that. She just could not quite put her finger on it. Elizabeth was so deep in thought that she didn't hear someone sneak up behind her.  
  
"Now why is such a beautiful woman standing in the corner all alone?"  
  
Elizabeth jumped slightly at the smooth silky voice, her heart pounding against her chest. She twirled around and stared at Christian, "Oh you startled me."  
  
Christian placed a hand over his heart and slightly bowed, "My humblest apologizes my lady for I did not mean to frighten you. I was sure you heard me coming but I was mistaken. I apologize again, Lizzy." Elizabeth shook her head, "No, no," she waved her hand, "No apologizes are necessary. You simply caught me off guard." 'That was twice in one night' she thought. He smiled and Elizabeth's heartbeat started to race even faster. The man has an amazing smile. The blade must have thought so as well because it warmed up on her wrist, again. Elizabeth hid her hands behind her back.  
  
Christian noticed but he didn't say anything to her. It wasn't the right time or place to confront her about the Witchblade. No, they needed to discuss such matters privately and as far away from Kenneth Irons as possible. Which reminded Christian, "So where did Mr. Irons run off to?"  
  
"He had gone off to fetch me something to drink." She informed him.  
  
"Like a good little dog." Christian muttered under his breath.  
  
"What was that, Christian?"  
  
He innocently looked up Elizabeth and said, "Oh nothing."  
  
Elizabeth raised her eyebrow but Christian continued to play the innocent angel. She grinned and shook her head. "Do not give me that, Christian. That angelic look does not work with me. I know there is a rogue hidden in there somewhere."  
  
Christian beamed, "Why my Lady Elizabeth," he moved closer to her, "You have been noticing." He grinned and a mischievous glint ran through his eyes. "And here I thought all my hard work has been in vain." He was so close that Elizabeth was able to smell his cologne. It wasn't cologne it was him. A combination of soap, musk, and his scent that was uniquely Christian. She did everything but roll her eyes shut as she inhaled deeply of the masculine scent.  
  
In the distance, Elizabeth heard someone clearing his throat. To her surprise, it was Kenneth. He had returned with her drink. "Here you are my dear." He handed her the glass of wine. Elizabeth pushed against Christian's chest, moving away and towards Kenneth.  
  
"Thank you Kenneth." Elizabeth could tell from the look in his eyes he was unhappy with what he saw. She took the glass of wine and instead of gulping it down like she wanted to, she took a leisurely sip  
  
"You are more the welcome my dear." Kenneth wrapped an arm around Elizabeth's waist all the while watching for the other man's reaction. Christian knew what Irons was doing; it was a clear sign telling him that Elizabeth was his. 'We shall see' Christian thought. The mischievous glint was still there in his eyes as he returned the smile.  
  
"Are you behaving yourself my dear brother?" Celeste had return to join them. She smiled up at her older brother, seeing how much happier he was now that Elizabeth was here. She had been watching them from a distance. Smiling at the way he flirted with her. Celeste was quite surprised that unlike before Elizabeth seemed to welcome his engaging behavior. It was a shame that Irons had to hamper their playfulness. The two men stared at each other. Seeing this Celeste quickly stepped in before testosterones began to flare.  
  
"But of course. I always do sweet Celeste." Christian wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. Celeste knew better but she didn't say anything. She was just happy that she had her brother and now Elizabeth together in a time of need.  
  
Elizabeth smiled at them. How she had missed them, her home. Now that she was back, she was going to make up for all that lost time. Kenneth watched as the bond the three shared were growing stronger and if he wasn't careful, he was going to Elizabeth to them, most importantly to him. His arm absently tightens around her waist and Elizabeth looked curiously up at him. Kenneth simply smiled back and took a sip of his drink. Christian hid his grin behind is hand. 


	54. Chapter fifty four

"Tell us Beth how long will you be staying in town?" Celeste asked.  
  
Elizabeth looked up at Kenneth before answering. He gave her a small smile and nodded his head slightly. Elizabeth turned back to Celeste and Christian, "I was going to save the news for a much later time but I suppose I can tell you. I, we, decided to stay here for a while." Celeste's eyes widen at the realization. "This means you're staying." Elizabeth smiled, nodding her head. Celeste pulled away from her brother's arm, rushing over to Elizabeth. Engulfing the older woman in a tight hug, "I assume that you are happy about my staying." Elizabeth amusingly asked. Celeste answered, tightening her hold on Elizabeth.  
  
"So, Mr. Irons does this mean that you will be staying as well?" Christian curiously asked.  
  
Irons grinned, "Yes, Elizabeth and I will be staying at a villa not far from here. Is there a problem?"  
  
Christian nonchalantly waved his hand, "Of course not. I'm just worried that a man of your.stature would be bored with our quaint town. And being such a successful businessman, well it must be quite difficult to run your 'business' from so far away."  
  
"Yes, I must agree Mr. Nottingham that is way I'll be traveling to New York from time to time taking care of business. Unfortunately, I will be leaving MY lovely Elizabeth behind." Irons said, emphasizing just whom Elizabeth belonged to.  
  
"We, Celeste and I, will make sure to take great care of her while you're 'taking care of business'. We will keep her so busy she will not even know that you're gone. Therefore, you will have nothing to worry about Mr. Irons. Lizzy will be in capable hands. I must say you must have a strong sense of will, Mr. Irons."  
  
"Why do you say that, Mr. Nottingham?" Irons had to hid the irritation from his voice.  
  
"Well if I were in your place I would find it difficult to leave such a precious woman behind, alone and not to have her by my side. I mean even at arms, length is too far. Nevertheless, to have an ocean separating you from your love, no I'd be too weak. I would rush back immediately or perhaps not leave her at all 'business' be damn. However, that is just how I am." Celeste tightened her arm around Christian. He looked down at his sister, a subtle hint in her amber eyes telling him to stop his little childish banter with Irons. Celeste could sense Irons was seething under that cool collar of his. She was not the only one to notice.  
  
"Christian may I have a private word with you?" Elizabeth graciously requested. It took both him and Kenneth by surprise. However, Celeste could tell by fiery glint in her eyes she was a bit upset. Elizabeth turned to Kenneth to politely excuse herself, "If you'll just excuse us for a moment my dear."  
  
"Of course, I'll be here awaiting for your return." Reluctantly letting go of Elizabeth.  
  
Christian led them to the now empty study. As soon the door closed behind them, Elizabeth confronted him. "Why are you being unpleasant towards, Kenneth?"  
  
"How am I being unpleasant towards your gentleman.friend?" He innocently replied.  
  
"Don't give me that, Christian. The moment we arrived all I've sensed between the two of you is animosity. And since then you've acted like some jealous child." Elizabeth exclaimed.  
  
"As you can tell, Lizzy, I am no child." Christian pointed out. Elizabeth lifts her chin, resisting the urge to look him up and down. No, Christian Nottingham was definitely not a child but a man.  
  
"Fine, then that leaves you with being jealous." Elizabeth stated with her hands on her hips, irritation still evident in her eyes. She watched Christian slowly stepping closer to her. Like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. His golden brown eyes boring into hers. No longer hindering those suppressed emotions he felt all those years as he watched over her. Of course, this was a knowledge Lizzy was unaware. A discussion they would address later. Now, was a time for other things. Mainly why was she with the Kenneth Irons.  
  
"Of course I'm jealous. How can I not be when he has someone I've longed for so long." Christian reached up to caress her cheek but stopped himself and instead lowered his hand. "Why are you with..him?" he spat out refusing to use Irons name.  
  
Elizabeth sighed, her angry reflection in her eyes fading under his curious and intense gaze. "That is none of your business, Christian." She said.  
  
He closed his eyes, solemnly nodding at her reply.  
  
"Besides, you should be out there wooing and focusing your Nottingham charm with women your age. Not someone old like me. I mean you cannot still be harboring any of that adolescent crush on me."  
  
Christian opened is eyes once again capturing Elizabeth in his trance. He gravely nodded his head, a small grin crossing his face, "You are right, Lizzy."  
  
She lowered her head a small pang of disappointment ran through her heart. 'What did you expect Liz? He has moved on and so have you. Why do you care?' she admonished. Perhaps deep down she selfishly hoped that he still felt that way. The blade lit up and began to warm up.  
  
"However, I disagree and so does that bracelet of yours."  
  
Elizabeth's head snapped up, "I don't know what you are talking about." She reached down to cover the blade with her sleeve.  
  
Perhaps it was time to tell her something things. Christian reached to lift her right hand. His eyes never leaving the swirling red stone. "Tell me, Lizzy. Are you having a difficult time controlling the Witchblade? Or has this fickle," the blade hissed at his teasing causing a chuckle to escape his lips, "Yet powerful weapon been controlling you?" Elizabeth tore her arm from his grasp. "What do you know of this?" She held up her arm, showing off the Witchblade.  
  
"I know more then you realize, my Lady. My knowledge of the Witchblade far exceeds those of your friend out there." He said, referring to Kenneth Irons. "What has he promised you, Lizzy? What sweet nothings has he whispered into your ears? What must you give him in exchange for 'his' knowledge regarding the blade? What lies has he told you?"  
  
Elizabeth remained silent. All the while rubbing the active blade on her wrist. Her anger quickly returning.  
  
"Heed my warnings, Elizabeth. Kenneth Irons is a dangerous man. The one and only thing he seeks and wants, is to control the power the Witchblade has to offer." Elizabeth gasped, her hands balled up into fist. She fought against the urge to hit this audacious man across the face. "How dare you!" she exclaimed.  
  
Christian held up his hand in hopes to halt any strike, "I will not doubt perhaps he loves you in his own unique way. However, his primary desire is for the blade and its powers. He wants complete control and will he use you to gain it. I will not stand and idly watch him do that to you, Lizzy." Christian's voice became stern and protective.  
  
"Just who the hell do you think you are? You are not my keeper, Christian. You are not my bodyguard or some sort of protector. I have been taking care of myself of myself long before you have and I will continue without you're help!" she exclaimed.  
  
"If you would open your eyes and heart and believed in the Witchblade. Pierce the veil of the senses, then you would see the truth." Without warning, he placed his hand over the eye of the bracelet. The red stone and the small blue one on Christian's ring began to swirl in unison. The Witchblade thrusting Elizabeth into a vision. 'So much for discussing the issues of their connection later.' Christain thought.  
  
A slideshow of her past all watched from a different perspective, Christian's to be exact. She continued to watch as time fast forward, showing her how he saved her from different life threatening situations. Finally, answering the aged old question of 'how'. How she had been able to survive this long. Elizabeth had always been confident of her skills but they could only take her so far. Until one day her skills would lead her down a path that would literally be a dead-end, hers. Now as she watched, she understood. No longer surprised on how she managed to survive and come out on top. As the vision wore down, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Christian standing in the shadows watching her. The man from her dreams finally revealed.  
  
"You," she breathlessly replied as her vision ended, incredulously staring at him, "You were there."  
  
"I've always been there for you, Lizzy, always." He said. Elizabeth's anger faded away along with the vision, in its wake was uncertainty. It was all too much, her head was spinning, "I..I.. need to go." She walked past him towards the door.  
  
"Elizabeth please wait." He pleaded while grabbing her arm. She refused to turn around, her back still facing him. She shook her head, "Why should I believe you? Perhaps you are the one after this," She looked down her arm at the bracelet, "And not Kenneth. Perhaps your animosity towards him has you spewing half-truths, nonsense. Perhaps I should be worried about you instead. I mean we hardly know each other.."  
  
"I know you better then anyone in this world and you will find that you know me as well. We share a connection that goes far beyond the Witchblade and time itself. I," he moved closer behind her, his hands hovering over her body, "am the one person you can trust. The one person who understands and knows how you feel. We share the same destiny, you and I. Elizabeth, you were chosen to wield the Witchblade and I have been chosen to protect It and you. Use the blade and you will see that I am not lying to you, I never have." She closed her eyes shut, feeling his overbearing presence behind her. Half of her resisting the urge to lean back against him while the other stayed fully alert and ready to flee at a moments notice.  
  
She looked down a the Witchblade and its swirling red stone. In the past, she had utilized it as some sort of radar, warning her to beware. However, instead of the flaming warmth that warned her of impending danger it continued its tranquil glow. Never had it reacted towards Kenneth in such a way. At times, it had felt cold, hollow, and lifeless. Dare she actually believe in Christian? Elizabeth could feel the twinges of a headache coming on.  
  
"I assure you, Elizabeth. My ramblings are not based on the crush, the feelings I had on you. I am no longer that gawky teenager."  
  
"Oh, then who are you?" She whispered.  
  
Christian moved around to face her. He lifted her chin with his fingers, his eyes locking with hers. "I am a man who's fallen in love with you. I have always been in love with you. I am the same man who's been destined to protect and guide you. To fight against those who would do you harm, to fight by your side." His eyes pleading with hers to understand. Cautiously, he lowered his head, his mouth moving closer to hers, their breaths mingling together. Yet, at the last second Elizabeth turned her head away. "This is neither the time or place to discuss this." Reluctantly she pulled away from his and moved towards the door. "Kenneth is waiting." As she reached for the handle, she could hear him whisper, "So am I."  
  
Christian sighed as he heard the soft click of the door close behind him. He rubbed his hands against his face, running them through his hair as he exhaled. He walked over to the stone hearth set against the wall. He stared into the fire then looked up to the picture frame that adorned the mantel. It was a picture of Celeste, Elizabeth, and him when they were younger. He ran a finger over her image, even back then he was already in love with her. "Will she ever understand?" He spoke aloud. Sara who had been positioned near the fireplace looked around the empty room. 'Who was he talking to? He can't be talking to me. Can he?' She thought.  
  
He replaced the picture frame on the mantel and looked up. Her eyes widen as he stared straight at her. Those soulful eyes of his pleading with hers. She wanted to reach out and cup his face, to tell him everything but stopped. Instead, she started to ask if he was able to see her but another voice rang out. "Elizabeth has taken in quite a bit of information in such a short time. Give her time and she will come around. Be patient, Christian." Miraculously a man materialized from a dark corner of the room, walking over towards Christian.  
  
"Lazar, you of all people should know patience is not part of my virtue." Christian snorted. He continued to stare in Sara's direction. "She is a strong willed, courageous, and a stubborn woman." Sara grinned. It sounded so much like her.  
  
"Sounds like you as well, Christian." Lazar wittily added.  
  
Christian rolled his eyes at Lazar, "Yes but I am no woman."  
  
"Good, because you'd make a hideous looking woman." Lazar joked.  
  
"Very funny, Lazar."  
  
"Christian, give the wielder time. She will understand and when she does, she will come to you. Do not give up on her." Lazar said as he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Never will I give up on her, Lazar. I will always be there for her, always." Christian vehemently replied.  
  
"Good but beware of Kenneth Irons. Do not underestimate him. He is a formidable enemy and his thirst for the blade is strong." Lazar warned. Christian nodded his head.  
  
They both turned as they heard a knock on the door. "Christian?" Celeste's voice was heard a second before she slipped through the opened door. Her smile broadens as she eyed the man standing next to her brother, "Lazar!" Celeste closed the door and quickly made her way over to them. "It is good to see you again child." Lazar quickly engulfed her in a hug. "When did you get here?"  
  
"I just arrived a few moments ago. And how are you little one?" Lazar's voice took on a sad note.  
  
"I, well, we are doing fine." Celeste laid a hand against her stomach.  
  
"Daniel was a terrific man and he would have been a wonderful father as well." Lazar said.  
  
"Yes, he would have been." A tear ran down her cheek. Lazar wiped away the tear with his thumb as he cupped her cheek. "And you my dear will be an excellent mother."  
  
"Thank you, Lazar." Celeste smiled.  
  
"Well I must bid you two a good-bye. Take care little one," Lazar leaned down and kissed Celeste on the cheek. He then turned to Christian, "And you heed my words." Lazar admonished. Christian smiled and nodded his head.  
  
"Come on Christian our guests are starting to leave. We must bid them good- bye as well." Celeste took hold of Christian's hand and led him out of the study.  
  
Sara watched as they walked through the door. The moment they stepped over the threshold, everything started to blur as time sped up. Days, weeks, and in moments months passed in a blink of an eye. In the course of the year, Sara witnessed the birth of Celeste's son, Daniel Christian Nottingham. Named after the man she loved and the brother she adored.  
  
Then there was Christian and Elizabeth. In the beginning after that first night, things between those two were rocky. She would spend as much time with Kenneth when he was not away on business and Christian spent his time trying to convince Elizabeth the truth. Sara watched the emotional roller coaster ride they were on. However, after sometime and a determined Nottingham and an even more persistent Witchblade Elizabeth started seeing the truth. Truth regarding the blade and the connection she shared with her protector. Their growing attraction finally blossoming more into love.  
  
However, before Elizabeth could pursue her love for Christian she needed to say good-bye to Kenneth. Over time, they had grown distant. Always away on business and his once charming personality was changing before her eyes. Elizabeth no longer knew the man she thought she loved. It was a heartfelt departure. Tears were shed and words of anger were expressed between the two.  
  
"Its him isn't it? That damn Nottingham is the reason." Kenneth exclaimed.  
  
Elizabeth immediately on the defensive, "No, Kenneth it is us. Can you not feel it? We have grown distant. Our relationship is not the same, we are not the same."  
  
Kenneth reached forward, grasping her shoulders resisting the urge to shake some sense into her. Does she not know the formidable force they could become? He tried again to convince her. "Don't you see what is happening, love? He is jealous of what we have. He is only trying to break us apart. Whatever he has been telling you are all lies."  
  
Elizabeth irritably shook her head, "Damn it, Kenneth. This has nothing to do with Christian. It is us!" She yelled, hoping that this time he would listen.  
  
The thought of that boy taking away the one precious thing he craved was driving Kenneth mad. His left hand traveled down her arm, brushing his fingertips against the cool metal of the bracelet. He lifted her arm to study the Witchblade. "Don't you see that impudent boy is trying to steal what belongs to me?" His voice was low and ominous. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows as he addressed the blade instead of her. Christian was right, Kenneth loved the Witchblade more then he did her.  
  
She twisted her arm from his grasp, "I'm sorry Kenneth but this is good- bye." She started to walk away. His voice stopping her. "You are making a mistake, Elizabeth."  
  
"The only mistake I will be making is if I stay here with you. Good-bye, Kenneth." She said not once turning to face him.  
  
He watched her retreating back, "I will get the Witchblade back. And as for that Nottingham boy he will pay." He picked up the phone and started dialing a number. "I have a job for you." Kenneth informed the person on the other end. 


	55. Chapter fifty five

~*~  
  
The insisting knocking woke Christian from his sleep. He glanced at his watch and groaned. "Blood hell, I'm coming." He bellowed. Not bothering to cover his half naked body, he padded barefoot from his room to the front door. He looked through the peephole to find Elizabeth standing on the other side.  
  
Elizabeth stifled a gasp as her eyes traveled up and down Christian's chisel features. From the look of his disheveled, hair and the drowsy look in his eyes he was still asleep when she arrived. Perhaps she should have called first or waited for the right time. It was still rather early in the morning and she should have known he was asleep. However, Elizabeth had grown impatient and anxious. She wanted, no needed to tell him, now.  
  
"Lizzy?" Her wondering eyes darted back up to his.  
  
"Christian," she breathlessly replied, a smile crossing her face. "My Lady, as much as I love your company I must ask what are you doing here at such an early hour?" He yawned while he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes.  
  
"You can stop waiting now." She said.  
  
"Its too early in the morning for riddles, my dear. What do you mean." She stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his bare chest, over his heart. His eyes darting from her hand to her eyes. Elizabeth could see the fog quickly rising. It did not take him long to figure out what she meant.  
  
He slowly snaked his right arm around her waist. Giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. When she did not object he pulled her closer, flushed to his body. He leaned down bringing his lips closer, hovering just above hers. Before capturing her mouth he whispered, "Say it." He pleaded, his voice sounding hopeful.  
  
"I love you, Christian Nottin.." He captured her lips before she could finish. Not breaking the kiss, he lifted Elizabeth in his arms, slamming the door behind them, and walking back towards his bedroom. Where they spent to rest of the day together, discovering their newfound love for each other.  
  
Sara sighed grateful that the blade decided to spare her the embarrassment of watching the two new lovers going at it. Another month passed in that one moment. Sara found Elizabeth sitting in front of the vanity mirror, applying finishing touches of make-up. "You get back into this bed this instant, you temptress." Christian groggily called from the bed behind her. She smiled, getting up from her chair, and walked over to him.  
  
"Good morning, my love." She bent down to quickly kiss him, hurriedly averting his seeking hands.  
  
"It would be if you would take those clothes off and crawled back under here with me." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Flashing that devilish smile of his.  
  
"I would love nothing more but," she sighed, "I can't. Celeste is waiting for me. We are planning to have brunch today. I've already missed lunch the other day because of you." Elizabeth grinned, putting on her heels. She walked over to the closet to retrieve her coat. Rustling sounds of sheets could be heard in the background, and in a matter of moments, Christian was behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against his naked body. He lowered his head, whispering in her ear, "Can't you call and reschedule for dinner perhaps?"  
  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes shut, lulling her head to the side. Relishing the feel of his soft lips nuzzling her neck. "Besides, who needs brunch. I can satiate your appetite." She could feel him smiling against her skin. His large hands lightly roaming over her body.  
  
"What about Daniel? I promised him I'd be there too. You do not want me to break the little boy's heart do you?" Elizabeth raised her arm, reaching behind her to cup the back of his head. Enjoying the kisses he bestowed upon her neck.  
  
"Ah, so you're leaving me for a younger man, hm?"  
  
Elizabeth chuckled, turning around in his embrace. Her arms wrapping around his neck. Christian continued wih his teasing, "Well I really cannot blame you, love. The Nottingham men are irresistible. A word of caution though my love. My dashing and charming nephew has been known to shamelessly woo women." He grinned.  
  
"Yes, a trait he has no doubt inherited from his incredible and sexy uncle. Don't worry my love, my heart already belongs to one Nottingham." She captured his face between her hands and pulled him down to bestow a searing and passionate kiss.  
  
"Mm, I seem to have awaken little Christian." Elizabeth grinned as she felt his arousal.  
  
"Its you're fault, love. Now are you sure 'we' can't persuade you to stay?"  
  
Elizabeth shook her head no. He sighed, "Fine, go on then love. Before little Christian and big Christian rip your clothes off, throw you onto the bed, and tie you up. Brunch be damned."  
  
They kissed once more before both were reluctant to let go. Christian pulled on a pair of pants and walked Elizabeth to the door. "Alright my love I'll be back in a few hours. What will you do while I'm gone?"  
  
Christian sighed once again, "I'll be lying naked in bed wasting away until your return." He grinned, "So eat fast my love." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. "I love you, Lizzy."  
  
"I love you too, bye." Elizabeth turned and walked away.  
  
Both were unaware of the men lurking in the shadows. They waited until Elizabeth got into the taxi and disappeared. They knocked on the door moments later. Assuming it was Elizabeth, Christian ran to the door, "See I knew you would come back." Caught completely off guard Christian had no time to react to the large fist that greeted him as he swung the door open.  
  
Christian stumbled back but was able to remain on his feet. He looked up in time to see another fist coming down. He moved his head in time to miss the punch. He stepped back putting some distance between him and the large burly man as he ready himself for a fight. Christian's arms quickly came up to block another blow from the intruder. He arched his arm and fist up to connect with the man's exposed gut, doubling him over. With his left hand, Christian brought down his fist down across the man's face.  
  
Christian continued to deliver blow after blow until the brawny body of the man dropped to the floor. But before Christian was able to pick up on the other presence that entered the room the beefy intruder wrapped his strong arms around Christian's body from behind. Trapping his body in a squeezing bear hug. Christian struggled against the man's hold but was unable to break free. The man lifted Christian off the ground with ease. The other man that was on the floor got up and rushed towards them. When he was close enough Christian raised his legs and pushed against intruder one back onto the floor, colliding with the coffee table on the way down. The force caught intruder two off guard and they both stumbled back to the opposite wall.  
  
A gush of air escaped from the man's lips as he connected with the wall. Christian snapped his head back, catching intruder two square in the face and breaking the man's nose. The man's grip loosens and Christian quickly wiggled his arms free. Still being held up by his waist, Christian began hitting against the side of the man's face with his elbows. Christian continued until finally the man let him go.  
  
Christian turned around and delivered a knee to the man's groin. The large man groaned as he dropped to his knees, clutching his aching crotch. Christian clasped his hands together and brought down his hands, connecting the man behind his head, dropping him to the ground.  
  
"Argh..." Christian turned in time to see intruder one rushing towards him. With his shoulder, he pinned Christian to the wall. Christian was about to bring down his elbow onto the man's exposed back when he heard the familiar click of a gun being cocked. He looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun, which was held by the steady hand of Kenneth Irons.  
  
"Why struggle, Nottingham. You are only delaying the inevitable. So why don't you be a good little boy and do so as I say." Kenneth ordered.  
  
Christian tried to formulate a plan on how he would free himself from his current situation. Kenneth smirked, "No use trying to figure your way out, Nottingham." Without wavering his attention on Christian, Kenneth called out to the one man still cowered on the floor. "Get up you fool and tie him up." When the other man didn't move fast enough, Kenneth kicked him. "I said get up, now!"  
  
With much effort, the other man managed to his feet. He pulled a few pieces of rope from his pockets. He bounded Christian's arms behind his back, then secured his ankle. "What's the point in keeping me alive if you're just going to kill me in the end? Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with, Irons? Then again you don't strike me as the type to do your own dirty work." Christian mocked. Intruder one finally straightened up from his position and held onto Christian's arm. On the other side was intruder two. A firm grip on Christian's other arm.  
  
Irons lowered his weapon and walked over to Christian. "Why would I want to shoot you? Where is the fun in that? No, I'm going to have my fun first then I'll kill you."  
  
Christian started to chuckle, "I always knew you were a sick bastard but a pervert too." Irons lips curled up into a sneer. He brought his hand up and smacked Christian across the face with his side of his gun. Christian winced from the blow; blood started spilling from his lips. "You cannot win, Irons." He said as he raised his head to look up.  
  
"I already have." Irons dealt another blow across Christian's face, this time rendering him unconscious.  
  
"Let's go." Irons ordered as he walked out of the apartment. The two men followed behind, dragging Christian's body.  
  
Sara horrifically watched, all the while thinking where was Elizabeth. 


	56. Chapter fifty six

Elizabeth waited for the car to wind its way up the driveway. She smiled as she spotted little Daniel and Celeste patiently waiting for her out in front of the house. She raised her hand to wave back at them when the blade on her wrist began to hiss and heat up. The sight of Daniel and Celeste quickly faded replaced with an image of Christian's conscious body chained up in a dark, empty room.  
  
The voice of the driver pulled Elizabeth out of her trance, "Are you all right, Miss?" She blinked away the haziness left by the vision and stared at the old man. "Take me back," she ordered. "What?" The driver exclaimed. "I said take me back, now!" She yelled at him, panic and fear lacing her voice.  
  
Just as the driver was about to put the car into gear, the passenger door swung open. A child's voice rang out a "Boo," followed by tiny little hands, reaching up to grab the edge of Elizabeth's skirt. She bent down to pick up Daniel and hugged him to her. As she pulled back, Daniel began to playfully pat her face. Tears began to well in her eyes as she looked down at her Godson.  
  
"So, are you going to come out of the car or will Daniel be forced to drag you out?" Celeste joked.  
  
Elizabeth gave Daniel a kiss on the cheek and handed him over to his mother. Celeste reached down to grab her son. "Beth, what's wrong?' She worriedly asked. The amused expression on Celeste's face faded as she seen Elizabeth's panic stricken face.  
  
Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat and said, "I don't have time to explain. I have to go." She reached out to squeeze Celeste's hand just before closing the door. "Go!" Elizabeth ordered and the car speedily ran down the driveway. Daniel pointed at the retreating car and looked at his mother questioningly. "Aunt Elizabeth will be back, Angel." Celeste forced a smile and kissed his cheek. She could sense something was wrong. It was the same feeling she had when she found out about Daniel's death. "Oh, God," she whispered.  
  
"Celeste?"  
  
"She whipped around to see Lazar standing there. "Lazar?" He smiled softly at her. Daniel, who had been squirming in her arms, happily reached out both arms. A not so subtle gesture that he wanted Lazar to carry him. The older man smiled as he reached for him, "Hello little one." The child squealed with delight as he pulled on Lazar's stingy blonde hair.  
  
"Lazar, what is going on?" Celeste nervously demanded. Afraid of what he might tell her. He remained quiet but there was sadness in his eyes. Celeste began to shake her head, "No, no, no!" She yelled back. Tears already welling in her eyes. She turned around and ran back into the house. Rushed into the study, found the phone, and quickly dialed Christian's number but there was no answer. She hung up and tried again, nothing. "No!" she cried out as she slammed the receiver down. She braced her hands on top of the old desk; her head hanging low. "Please Lazar, please tell me," she begged.  
  
"I am sorry, Celeste." Lazar sorrowfully replied.  
  
Celeste's shoulders began to quiver and shake. Whimpering sounds filled the once silent room. Tears slid down from her face, landing in a pool on top of the desk. Sensing his mother's distress, Daniel fidgeted in Lazar's arms, wanting to be lowered to the floor. Daniel walked over to his mother and tugged on her skirt. Celeste looked down at her son and picked him up. Daniel leaned his body forward, rested his head on her shoulder, wrapped his arms around her neck, and clasped his tiny hands together.  
  
Celeste hugged her son tightly, her hand cupping the back of his head. She turned around to face Lazar. "What about Beth?" Lazar lowered his head. Celeste's bottom lip began to quiver as more tears began to flow. Soon an angry scowl spread across her face, "At least tell me who is responsible, Lazar."  
  
He sighed and raised his head, "You already know, Celeste. The same man that was responsible for your lover's death. Do not go seeking vengeance, my child. He will pay in due time. Justice will be served."  
  
"Justice," she snickered at the word, "Whose justice, Lazar? What law will prosecute.him?" She spat out, not wanting to say his name.  
  
"The Witchblade will see that he is punished, Celeste. This is out of your hands, my child. Do not go after him." Lazar moved closer to her and laid a hand on Daniel's back, "You have a son you must raise. You are all that he has left." Celeste's ire faded as she held her son in her arms, "He is all that I have, Lazar." Celeste closed her eyes, hugging Daniel closer.  
  
~*~  
  
"Wait here," Elizabeth ordered the driver. She hopped out of the car and rushed into the building. She ran up the stairs, to the apartment. Her heart sank when she noticed the front door ajar. She slowly made her way to the door but before going in, she looked down at the blade. It remained cold on her wrist, a clear sign that there was no danger.  
  
Cautiously, she made her way inside. Evidence of a struggle was marked in its wake. The coffee table was toppled over and contents that were on it now scattered on the floor. Picture frames, glasses, and anything fragile all ruined. Elizabeth continued to survey the area. Pieces of glass crunched beneath her feet as she moved to the wall. Looking down she noticed drops of red liquid on the floor. Which she already knew to be blood but whose? She knelt down, stretching her arm out, collecting a drop of blood in her fingertips. The blade hissed, throwing Elizabeth into another vision.  
  
She watched as the struggle silently played out in her vision. Two men came in, attacking Christian. However, they underestimated Christian's fighting skills and were no match for her skilled protector. He fought ferociously but in the end, he was not able to succeed. There was a third man Christian had not counted on being there. Elizabeth could not see the man's face only the gun he held in his hand.  
  
The second blow to the face, rendered Christian unconscious. The third man, obviously the leader, ordered the other men to carry Christian out of the apartment. Then and only then, the image of the man's face was shown. Elizabeth gasped at the realization. She rushed back to the car and gave the driver the address. Without question, he put the car into gear and headed straight to Kenneth Irons' estate.  
  
The ride did not take long and soon Elizabeth found herself standing in front of the mansion. 'He could be anywhere,' she thought. The balde glowed on her wrist and like some kind of homing device started leading Elizabeth around the estate. She was becoming restless as the blade guided her through door after door. Unaware that it was leading her into the dark bowels of the mansion. Elizabeth stopped in her tracks she knew she was getting closer as her stomach began to churn. A strong metallic odor of blood hung heavily in the air.Closing her eyes she swallowed the bile that was threatening to escape her mouth.  
  
Her heart began to beat faster with every step she took, bringing her closer to the end of the hall. She did not know what to expect when she turned that last corner. Christian? Kenneth? Another door? Or perhaps death himself stood waiting for her. Her uncertainty did not hinder her movements. All she cared about was getting to Christian out of this horrible place and back safely in her arms.  
  
Elizabeth cautiously turned the corner and sure enough at the end of the hall was another door. This time two large men were guarding it. Those same men she had seen in her vision, the very ones that attacked Christian. Both stood on either side of the door, their guns visible held in their hands.  
  
They quickly raised and aimed their weapons upon spotting Elizabeth. The man on the right leaned over to mutter something to the other. Elizabeth could not hear what they were saying but the man on the left nodded his head. Steadying his aim on her while the other disappeared behind the door.  
  
"Mr. Irons." The man's voice trailed off has he eyed Christian's body suspended in the middle of the room. Wrists encased in metal cuffs held up by chains. Blood poured down his body onto the already crimson stained concrete floor. Standing next to him was Irons, a whip held in his hands. The leather strands coated with blood. On the opposite side, a small table with more bloodied instruments that Irons had used to torture the young man. Christian's head hung low, and the slight rise and fall of the man's chest was the only indication that he was still alive. The man lowered his head, averting his eyes from the horrific image. He had always known how dangerous Kenneth Irons was but never had he thought just how malicious the man could be. "What is it, Victor?" Irons demanded, irritated with the interruption.  
  
"She is here," he cleared his throat and spoke louder, "Ms. Bronte is here, Sir."  
  
Kenneth smirked, fingering the damp whip, "Excellent, now go. You have your orders."  
  
Victor nodded and exited the room. Kenneth tucked the end of the handle under Christian's chin, raising his head to meet his icy blue eyes. "Did you hear that, boy? The lovely Elizabeth has arrived."  
  
"Lizzy," Christian called out her name in a whisper.  
  
At that moment Elizabeth heard Christian's weak voice calling out to her. "Christian," she quietly cried out. The door opened and the same man stepped out. He spoke to his associate and turned his attention on Elizabeth. The man named Victor, still held his gun but did not bother to raise it against her. Instead, he started to speak, "It would be in your best interest Ms. Bronte if you would simply do as I ask and give me the bracelet. If you do not cooperate we have our orders to take it from you by any means necessary."  
  
Elizabeth looked down at the Witchblade then back up at the man. She held out her arm and said, "If this is what you want come and get it." She taunted. The man contemplated for a moment. "I have no weapons if that is what you are afraid of. See," she slowly began to turn around, giving the men a clear view that she not was lying. "I am unarmed," she stated. Convinced, Victor cautiously walked over to her. He stood at arms length in front of her, in his right hand he held is gun.  
  
"All right Ms. Bronte hand over the bracelet," he demanded. Elizabeth replied, sticking her arm out, leveling her fist with the man's face. "Take it," she said.  
  
With his free hand, Victor reached up to grab the bracelet from her wrist but it would not budge. No matter how hard he tugged on it the bracelet remained in place. He eyed her confusingly, "What's the matter not strong enough?" Elizabeth mocked. He pursed her lips in agitation. Finally coming to a resolution he put his gun into the side holster attached to his belt. This time with both hands freed, he tried again. His brow furrowed when it would not move.  
  
Elizabeth wickedly grinned as she willed the blade to form. The familiar sounds of metal clicking and snapping into place echoed in the hallway. The long jagged sword jutted out. Before Victor realized what was happening and react, the blade easily pierced through his face, the end of the blade protruding out the back of his head.  
  
"Victor!" The other man yelled and began firing. With the blade still stuck in the man's head, Elizabeth ducked behind him, using his body for cover. With her left hand, she reached for the holstered gun and returned fire. Then suddenly wall was silent. Elizabeth recalled the blade, dropping the body onto the cold floor along with the empty gun from her hand. She hurriedly walked over to the door. She absently stepped over the dead body of the other guard. Blood oozing out from the three bullet wounds in the chest and the one in his forehead.  
  
She reached for knob and turned, opening the door into a dark room. No doubt, the same room from her vision. And like in the vision, there was Christian, in the middle of the room, hanging from his wrist. Behind him was Kenneth, holding a dagger to Christian's throat. Tears began to well in her eyes, covering up the fear and anger that reflected there.  
  
"Why are you doing this?!" Elizabeth exclaimed her voice laced with anger.  
  
"Such a fiery temper, my dear. It was one of the main traits I loved about you."  
  
She stepped forward only to stop as Kenneth pressed the edge of the dagger against Christian's throat. "I would advise you to stay where you are my dear or you will force me to do something drastic to your lover." Kenneth spat out those last words.  
  
"Please, Kenneth, stop this now. Please, I'm begging you."  
  
"Begging is unbecoming of you, Elizabeth." Kenneth smirked.  
  
Elizabeth closed her eyes and tears began to spill from them. She took a deep breath, nearly retching from the smell of blood, before opening her eyes again. Finally swallowing down her pride she pleaded, "I will do anything you wish, Kenneth. But please just let Christian go." Seeing her beloved like this was tearing out her heart.  
  
"Anything?" Kenneth repeated.  
  
Elizabeth nodded her head, "Yes, anything. Just let him go, please."  
  
"If I ask that you forsake Nottingham and return to me?"  
  
Before she could say anything Christian protested, "No, Lizzy. Don't do this."  
  
"Shut up, boy." Kenneth warned before delivering a blow to Christian's back.  
  
The heavy chains rattled as Christian's body jerked from the blow. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let out a painful cry. Refusing to give Kenneth the satisfaction that he was in excruciating pain.  
  
Elizabeth stepped forwards, her arm sticking out, "Yes! Yes, I will return to you if that is what you wish, Kenneth. But please just stop and let Christian go." She begged.  
  
Kenneth tapped his finger against his pursed lips, thinking over Elizabeth's proposal. He turned his menacing stare at her, "I do not think so, Elizabeth. Why would I want a tainted whore such as yourself? Besides that is not what I really want, my dear." Elizabeth's eyes traveled down her arm, onto the blade. "I want what is rightfully mines. I want the Witchblade. Give me the blade and I will let your sweet Christian go." Kenneth bargained.  
  
"Elizabeth, no!" Christian pleaded.  
  
"I said shut up!" Kenneth yelled as he punched him on the side.  
  
Elizabeth stared at the glowing stone, willing it to help her but It did nothing. She looked up at Christian's beaten body and made a decision. "You win, Kenneth," she said as she slipped the bracelet off her wrist and held it on her hand. The light from the stone faded, as it grew cold and lifeless. "You may have the it once you let him go," she negotiated.  
  
"I told you boy, I've already won. Say good-bye to your lady love." Kenneth whispered into Christian's ear.  
  
Kenneth turned his attention to watch Elizabeth's reaction as he moved the dagger in position to slit Christian's throat. "Of course, my dear. I will let your beloved go." He pulled Christian's head back, exposing his neck.  
  
'I love you, Lizzy.' Christian mentally sends out a second before he felt the blade of the dagger slice through.  
  
Time seemed to have slowed down as Elizabeth helplessly watched. "Nooo.." She screamed. Dropping the knife and grabbing the gun off the nearby table, Kenneth moved to the opposite of the wall. Tears streaming down her face, Elizabeth dropped the blade and rushed to Christian's lifeless body.  
  
Kenneth flipped a switched and the chains began to rattle, lowering Christian's body. Elizabeth caught him in her arms before guiding his body, along with hers, down to the cold floor. Christian's upper body rested on her lap, her head lowered to his chest as she wept.  
  
Kenneth walked over to where the blade landed and bent to retrieve it. He eyed the dormant bracelet, anxiously waiting to feel the rush of power coursing through his body. However, before he can claim that power as his, he needed to do away with someone else, the previous wielder of the Witchblade. He walked around to face Elizabeth who still cowered over Christian's dead body.  
  
"You should have listened to me, Elizabeth, and stayed. Now it seems the blade has abandoned you at your most darkest hour." He mocked while holding onto the bracelet.  
  
Elizabeth sobered up and raised her head to stare up at him. "You are foolish to think the blade will chose you. You will never win, Irons." She spat out.  
  
"Interesting, that is exactly what Nottingham said and I will tell you the same. I have already won. Good-bye, Elizabeth. Kenneth raised is weapon, aimed and fired. 


	57. Chapter fifty seven

A/N: Sorry for the long wait but RL and getting sick kind of put the muse on hold. But here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy. Please review. =) ~*~  
  
Sara closed her eyes and jumped when she heard the gunshot. She refused to open them, refused to acknowledge that all that happened was true. "You cannot keep them closed forever, Sara." A woman's voice broke out.  
  
"Yes I can," Sara replied a bit childishly.  
  
"No, you cannot my dear. If you do that then you will miss everything else. Open your eyes and except what you see, Sara." She opened them, her attention immediately drawn to Elizabeth. Then to the form of Kenneth Irons' body lying unconsciously on the cold concrete floor. "What the hell happened to him?" Sara asked curiously. "See when you don't open your eyes. You missed out what happened." Elizabeth teased.  
  
Sara rolled her eyes and sighed, "So you going to tell me or not?"  
  
"Impatiently, Kenneth donned the Witchblade soon after killing me. As you know, the destined wielder can only wear the Witchblade. All pretenders female and men alike are to be punished. His," Elizabeth pointed at Kenneth, "Punishment was/is far more severe then most."  
  
"From what I've heard most pretenders either die or go insane after wearing the blade. Irons is zero in two if you haven't noticed. The man is definitely not dead and he's not insane well at least by most standards."  
  
"Do not worry Sara, Kenneth's punishment is set. It is just a matter of time before it is served." Elizabeth informed.  
  
"Great," Sara sarcastically replied.  
  
Elizabeth turned her back on Sara and stared walking over the two bodies. "Ah, doesn't it bother you. Standing there looking over your dead body?" Sara questioned. Knowing if it was her body, she would have a very big problem.  
  
"I am not looking at myself, Sara."  
  
"Oh," she whispered, staring down at Christian's lifeless body.  
  
"And before you ask, Sara, yes I could have done something. I could have done many things to prevent this. Yet, it does not matter now. My Christian is not coming back."  
  
"Then what the hell is the point of this whole dream/vision?" Frustrated she asked.  
  
"Have you not been listening with an open mind, heart, Sara? Do you still not understand? You are given a chance. A chance to avoid making the same mistakes that Cathain, I, and so many others has made." Elizabeth exclaimed.  
  
"In the end the only thing that was left was the hurt and the pain. Why should I set myself up for that?"  
  
"That is a part of life, Sara. The pain is inevitable no matter what we do. What does matter is how you live up to that point. Are you going to shelter yourself from feeling anything at all like Cathain? Or be like me and wait for that very last moment? Only to later regret on what could have been if I had not wasted so much time in being afraid and stubborn. You have an opportunity so many of us would gladly have but we don't, you do. Do not waste it." Sara averted the woman's intense gaze. Elizabeth sighed, hoping that this lesson was not taken in vain by this stubborn woman.  
  
A blinding flash of light engulfed the room. Sara covered her eyes with the back of her arm. After a few moments she moved her arm, squinting against the bright glare. Gradually her eyes began to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. She blinked a few times and found herself in a metal covered hallway. She whirled around trying to find some kind of exit. The only thing she found was metal down at the end of the hall.  
  
"Where are we now?" Sara asked, a shrill of trepidation coursing up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on ends. She did not like the feeling one bit.  
  
"A modern version of the past." Elizabeth informed, not a hint of emotion laced her voice. Nothing for Sara to use or decipher on what was going to happen next. 'Ah, shit. Not that riddle crap again.' Sara sighed as she followed closely behind Elizabeth as they made their way to the metal door.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean, Elizabeth?"  
  
"You will see, Sara." Elizabeth claimed and under her breath she muttered, "I hope." She punched in the required code. With an approving beep, the doors hissed opened. "After you my dear." Elizabeth politely gestured. Sara cautiously eyed Elizabeth before stepping into the room.  
  
"Oh my God," Sara whispered.  
  
"I assure you Sara that is not my Christian." Elizabeth said behind her.  
  
"Ian!" Sara rushed to remove Ian from his chains but she merely passed through him like some ghost. She turned to Elizabeth, "Help him!" Sara begged.  
  
"I cannot help him, Sara. I had my chance remember? Besides I am no longer alive but you are." With that said Elizabeth disappeared leaving Sara behind with Ian. Sara reached for the chains again but it was useless.  
  
"Sara?" Ian whispered.  
  
"I'm right here, Ian. Just hold on I'll get you out." Sara said not caring whether he knew she was there or not. All she cared about was getting him out. Sara frantically searched the room for anything that would help. She suddenly stopped when she heard footsteps in the distance. She looked out the door and seen Irons coming closer.  
  
Anger boiling in her veins, Sara wielded the blade to its gauntlet form, the long sword protruding out at the end. She walked out of the room and began to rush after Irons, the blade raised up high above her head. With a quick tug of her arm, Sara brought the blade down. Swiping down against Irons only to pass through his body and have nothing happen. Irons continued to walk towards the chamber, passing through Sara as if she was not there.  
  
Sara turned to run back towards the room but was useless. No matter how hard she ran the room kept getting father away. "Ian!" She yelled just before the door closed.  
  
"Ian!" Sara called out as she shot up in bed. Sheen of sweat covered her body, her chest heaved up and down. Confused she looked around only to find herself back in bed and in her apartment. She looked over to the alarm clock, 5:45 A.M. She took deep breaths trying to calm her racing heartbeat. Sara wiped away the sweat from her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She spotted the quiet stone of the blade staring back at her.  
  
She untangled herself from the damp sheets and moved her legs over the edge of the bed. Placing her elbows on her knees, she buried her face into her hands and mumbled, "It was all a dream. All a fucked up dream."  
  
"You sure about that?" A female voice echoed in the apartment. Sara quickly reached for the gun she kept under her pillow, stood up, whirled around, and aimed at the shadows. "Who's there?" Sara yelled trying t get a bearing on where the voice was coming from.  
  
"A voice from the past." Sara moved to aim at the shadowed corner of her apartment. It was still dark out and she couldn't see the person's face. "With your hands up, come out where I can see you." Sara ordered. She watched with surprised awe as the person materialized from the shadows, hands held up as instructed. She only knew of one person that could have done that. Therefore, it was unnerving to watch this woman do it.  
  
"As you wish Detective Pezzini." Sara eyed the tall blonde woman donned in only black. 'Gee, Nottingham has a sister I don't know about?' Sara amusingly thought. Instead she said, "Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?"  
  
'Note to self, Pezzini is definitely not a morning person.' Faith mentally added as she stared at Sara. "The name is Faith."  
  
"Faith what?!"  
  
'And a bitch too.' Faith kept that little tidbit to herself and said, "Just Faith."  
  
"Well then 'Just Faith' what are you doing here in my apartment?"  
  
"A favor for a friend." She cryptically added as she slowly made her way to the window near the fire escape. Sara's aim never faltering as Faith moved. She leaned back against the wall and began to lower her arms only to stop. "Keep you hands up." Sara ordered. Faith sighed, "So you always greet people with a gun pointed at them and with such colorful language? Or do you save that for those special guests?" She grinned.  
  
"Guest my ass. You fucking broke into my apartment. Now, I'll ask again what are you doing here?" Sara's patience was wearing thin and this woman was going to be on the receiving end of her ire if she did not hurry up and answer.  
  
"On the contrary, Detective. I did not break into your apartment." Faith said a bit defensively.  
  
"Bullshit, the last I checked everything was locked."  
  
"That is true but I was invited in."  
  
"I sure as hell did not invite you in."  
  
"No you did not, but I was not referring to you." Faith's grin grew wider, noticing how irritated Sara was becoming.  
  
"Then who?" Sara's question was short and too the point.  
  
"Not who, Wielder, but what." Faith nodded towards the bracelet on Sara's wrist. Sara glanced down in time to see the blade glow on her wrist, apparently vouching for Faith. "What do you know about this?" Sara demanded answers.  
  
Faith smiled as she lowered her arms and when Sara made no comment about her move, she crossed them against her chest. Looking more relaxed then most people would when they have a loaded weapon pointed at them. "I know my share of the blade, Wielder."  
  
"Like what?" Going against her better judgment, Sara lowered her gun but still held a firm grip on it and with the safety off.  
  
"That the blade can only be wielded by a woman, well 'the' destined woman. It gives the chosen woman some rather unique attributes such as clairvoyance, increased speed, and the ability to manipulate time, and pierce the veil of the senses. Am I getting warm yet?" Faith smirked, proud of her knowledge and there was so much more that she knew.  
  
"That is common knowledge. Anyone can search that up on the Internet. I have a guy who does that for me. What makes you so special?"  
  
"Still skeptical huh? Typical, I have heard about you. Having a hard time believing in the blade even after all, you've been through. Then again, I cannot blame you really. Especially now days when seeing is believing and you are a homicide Detective. You need evidence as proof. And with the blade the only evidence you get are dead bodies you can't explain. Any way, there is something else that you and your 'guy' would not know. Its not exactly common knowledge that can be found on the 'net'." Faith raised her hands to make quotation signs in the air.  
  
"Go on," Sara said through clenched teeth. She stared incredulously at the woman who not only broke into her apartment, was a walking information booth about the mystical Witchblade, but insulting as hell.  
  
"Legend states that there is some sort of consort to the Witchblade."  
  
"A consort?" Sara raised a condescending brow.  
  
"Yes, a consort. Unlike the Witchblade this 'consort' or rather known as Excalibur can be wielded only by the destined male protector."  
  
"Excalibur?" With both brows raised, Sara stared at Faith as if she had lost her mind.  
  
"What is there an echo in here? Yes, Excalibur."  
  
"I don't buy it." Sara shook her head.  
  
"Of course you wouldn't. You can't even accept the Witchblade. Why should this be any different?" Faith countered.  
  
"Hey, don't judge me. You do not know anything about me and you definitely don't know what I have been through since I've gotten this thing. I've accepted what I have to do. I've accepted my destiny." Sara angrily stated. How dare this woman come in here and tell her off.  
  
"You are right, I do not know you and I apologize for judging but you make it so easy. I mean you refer the Witchblade as a 'thing'. You continue to do so then it will abandon you. Moreover, what exactly have you accepted about your destiny? Fight the good fight?" Faith snorted, "Is that all? For you to accept your destiny, Sara Pezzini, you need to embrace everything and everyone. Not just parts of it or else you will never succeed and you will fail."  
  
Before Sara could retort back Faith reached into her pocket and pulled out something. She held the silver piece of jewelry between her fingers and began to inspect it. Sara turned to the nightstand besides her bed; Ian's ring was gone. "Found this on your nightstand, hope you don't mind. It is an incredible piece of work. The craftsmanship is unbelievable never seen anything like it before."  
  
"Give it back," Sara ordered, sticking her arm out, palm held open.  
  
"Is this yours?" Faith held her hand out as if offering the ring back. But quickly tugged her arm back and returned to expecting it. "Hm, I don't think this belongs to you, Detective. This looks much like a man's ring rather then a woman's." Faith knew exactly who owned the ring. Yet, what she didn't know and was going to find out is why Sara has it. "You know this ring looks awfully familiar. Do you know an Ian Nottingham?" Faith looked up from the ring and asked. She continued when Sara remained silent but she had seen the recognition in her eyes, "This looks like his ring. Nevertheless, how can it be his? I mean from what I remember he has never taken it off. So why would he give it to you?"  
  
"I said give it back." She sounded more demanding.  
  
"Why should I? Let's stop with the games shall we? Because we both know Detective this ring belongs to Ian Nottingham. What I don't know is why he gave it to you. Care to fill me in?"  
  
"Its none of your business." Sara replied.  
  
"I'm making it my business, Detective." Faith's tone of voice dropped, becoming more intimidating. "So, why did he give it to you?" Faith pushed off from the wall but made no other move.  
  
Sara lowered her head, "I don't know," she whispered.  
  
"You don't know?" Faith sounded a bit skeptical.  
  
"I said I don't know, all right."  
  
"Oh, but I think you do. You have yet to realize something, Detective. Ian Nottingham would never give away his worldly possessions unless he felt he no longer needed it." Faith informed. "You wouldn't happen to know why he should feel this way do you?" Sara had an idea why remembering their last encounter. Faith watched as Sara's shoulders slumped, the grip on her gun dangerously becoming slack.  
  
Within in the blink of an eye Faith moved from the wall near the fire escape towards Sara. Just in time to catch the loaded gun from hitting the floor and perhaps preventing an accidental discharge. Confused, Sara willed the blade to its gauntlet form and the jagged dagger jutted out. She pressed the tip of the blade against Faith's stomach. Faith froze in place not wanting to be skewered by the blade. She was impressed with Sara's control over the blade yet highly irritated with the lack of care for her gun.  
  
"You really should be careful, Sara. Wouldn't want to shoot someone's eye out by accident." Faith raised the weapon to show Sara, holding the gun by the barrel. With her thumb, Faith flipped the safety back on. Realizing what happened, Sara willed the gauntlet back to its bracelet form. Faith silently let out sigh of relief. On a will of good faith handed Sara back her gun. Sara took the weapon and held it tightly in her hand but made no move, neither did Faith. Faith began to speak again, wanting to question more about Ian and what had happened between the two but the phone began to ring.  
  
Sara made no move to answer instead she let the machine pick up, "Hey Pez its Jake. We got a call. I'll be over to pick you up in 30 minutes."  
  
"Time to go to work, Detective."  
  
Sara held out her palm, "The ring." Her voice held on a pleading tone and it surprised Faith. She stared down at Sara and found a hint of pain in her eyes. 'The woman was definitely a conundrum,' Faith thought. However, now was not the time to try to figure her out it. Faith smiled, rolling the ring in her hand, "Take it." She flipped the ring in the air. Sara focused her attention on the ring and caught it in mid air. When she turned back, Faith was gone. Sara rushed to the window but there was no sign of her. Sara stared out the window as she held the ring in her hand. Faith's words were coursing through her mind. If what she said were true, that Ian would only give up his ring only if he felt he no longer needed it. Then that would mean the dream was really a vision. Nevertheless, how could she know for sure? 


	58. Chapter fifty eight

~*~  
  
From across the street, Faith watched as the blue unmarked police car pulled up in front of Sara's building. A blonde gentleman, who she assumed was Jake, Sara's partner, got out of the car and walked into the building. Giving Faith the opportunity to place one of the many tracers Ian had provided for her. Faith rushed across the street and planted the bug beneath the bummer of the car. Quickly making her way to back, Faith got into her car and turned on the GPS device mounted on the dashboard. The red dot on the screen indicated the location of the tracer, hence the car.  
  
Moments later she watched as Sara and Jake exited the building and entered the car. "Time to go to work, Faith." She started up the car and from a safe distance followed the two detectives. After a 15-minute drive across town, they finally arrived at the crime scene. Yellow police tape cornered off the area and the bustle of police officers swarmed around. Faith hid behind some of the early on lookers and intently kept her eye on Sara. Suddenly the blade on Sara's wrist briefly glowed, giving the wielder a subtle nudge someone was watching her. She looked up from the body and started to search the crowd with her eyes. Faith blended back into the background, averting Sara's eyes.  
  
Faith squinted her eyes as she stared at Sara. She couldn't help but grin when she noticed what hung around Sara's neck. It was Ian's ring, hanging from some sort of chain. Sara reached up and grasped the ring in her hand as she continued to search the area. She sighed when she did not spot the familiar black coat that belonged to Ian. Yet, she could not help but feel that she was being watched, the same feeling she got when Ian would be around.  
  
"Hey you okay, Pez?" Vicky, the medical examiner, had sneaked up behind her.  
  
"Yeah Vick, I'm okay. Just a little tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
"You do look like shit, Pez. And I assume you have yet to get your first cup of coffee too, am I right?" Vick grinned.  
  
"Gee, thanks for the compliment Vick."  
  
Vicky chuckled, "You're welcome. Hey what you got there?" She pointed to Sara's hand that was still clutching Ian's ring. "Oh, uh, its nothing. Just some old ring I had lying round the apartment. Thought I might accessorize it with my morning ensemble." Sara joked, not wanting to explain the real reason behind it. She was missing Nottingham and this piece of jewelry was all she got. And until she found out what happened to him she was not going to take it off. Though it was a constant, remind of the dream. It was still vivid and the trepidation was still there lingering deep in her mind.  
  
Vicky leaned closer to inspect the ring on Sara's neck. "Wow, it beautiful, Pez. Where did you find it?"  
  
"Actually it belongs to some guy I know. He left it behind and I'm just safe keeping it till he wants it back." It was close to the truth she would get.  
  
Vicky's eyebrows rose and a smile widen across her friend, "A guy, huh?"  
  
"Its not what you think, Vick." Sara informed. Vicky stared intently at her friend, surprisingly she seen the sad look in her eyes. 'Oh, I think it is and more' but instead Vicky said, "That's too bad," and headed off towards the van.  
  
Sara watched Vicky walk off, absently rubbing the ring in her hand. Jake's voice pulled her out of her trance, "Hey just found out the vic's name."  
  
"One Prospero McQueen. Yeah, I know, Jake." Sara added.  
  
"Yeah, so what do we do now?" Jake questioned.  
  
Sara sighed, "Looks like we'll be spending our morning rounding up his girls. Someone is bound to have seen what had happened."  
  
"That's a start. But you honestly think they are going to talk even if they knew what went down?" Jake asked sounding a bit skeptical that they were going to find the murderer.  
  
She shook her head and rubbed her temple with her fingers, "I don't know, Jake. All I know is that we got a dead pimp on our hands with no witnesses. It's going to be a long day and I need coffee. So let's get a move on, Rookie."  
  
From across the street, concealed in her car, Faith lowered the listening the device. She had quickly retreated to the safe haven of her car after the blade had warned Sara of her presence. Faith moaned as she pulled off the headphones. She contemplated on whether to continue her surveillance over the wielder. Faith knew that the journey would turn out to be a long and tedious one after hearing of their plans to round up the victim's 'employees'.  
  
The time spent following Sara was time well spent on something more productive. 'A quick shower and a change of clothes would be nice;' she thought, 'and I need to check on Ian. See how he has recovered since I left him with Gabriel. Not to mention I need to make sure Gabriel is all right too. Being alone with Ian must be freaking him out.' Decision made, Faith started her car.  
  
Weaving in and out of morning traffic was easy as she drove down to a well undesirable part of town. Down to an area where most people made sure to avoid. The neighborhood was bleak and unwelcoming. Nothing but the homeless and the addicts resided in the area. Abandon warehouses and boarded up old buildings with their condemned signs hanging crookedly on chained fences or painted on wooden planks lined the streets. Making it the perfect location for the warehouse Faith called home.  
  
She drove up the empty and filthy alley, stopping a few feet in front of a large boarded up entranceway. She got out of the car and headed towards a rusty old metal panel set against the building wall. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a small black device with three buttons. Pressing one of the buttons, the metal panel slides upwards revealing a numeric keypad. It made no sound as she entered the password, only a tiny green light flashed and the hissing sound of locks unlocking was heard. Faith pressed another button on the tiny device and the metal panel slide shut.  
  
Faith walked back to the car and got in. She sat patiently as the once boarded entrance way lifted to reveal a large garage. Putting the car into gear, she drove forward. She parked the car next to the black hummer. Getting out of the car, she walked of to another panel and punched in another set of codes and the disguised garage door closed. Immediately, as the door closed, florescent lights turned on, illuminating the room. Walking back to the car Faith spotted, in the corner of the room, a beige tarp draped over something. Having no time to inspect it, she ignored the bulky tarp and opened the trunk of the Jag. While reaching for her bag, she eyed the videotape and the initials 'S.P.' on the plastic cover and a small envelope underneath. Curiosity getting the better of her, Faith grabbed the items and brought it along with her bag. She climbed up the metal stairs, and exited through the door.  
  
Faith moved into the freight elevator, pulled down the wooden grates, and with a sigh started to punch in more codes into the metal panel. She knew security was highly important, especially in her life, but she could not help but complain once in awhile on how annoying it could get. And the fact that it was a constant reminder that her life was far from normal. After entering the code, she pressed for the fourth floor.  
  
Leaning back, she watched as the elevator passed the empty and open levels of the second and third floors and its blackened windows. Finally, the lift stopped as it reached its destination. Quickly, Faith lifted the wooden grates and stepped out. She approached the elaborately designed doubles doors and reached for the silver knobs. Pushing the door open, Faith stood on the threshold. She could not help but smile, happy to finally be home. It was not as fancy as the mansion, and she did not need nor wanted the lavish surroundings. Yet, occasionally she would indulge herself.  
  
From the few expensive tapestries and paintings that adorn the walls. To the expensive set up of the entertainment system positioned against the wall near an archway that lead to the sleeping quarters. The furnishings were simple yet comfortable. The three large plush sofas and pillows that boxed in the glass coffee table sat in the middle of the living room all atop European rugs. Standing lamps in each corner, a black leather reading chair, and three bookcases filled with leather bound books. All read and re- read by both Ian and Faith.  
  
Just a few feet away was the kitchen or what Ian would tease her the 'steel' kitchen. Because nothing save the wooden worktable and four counter stools were made up of stainless steel. Everything from the large industrial refrigerator and range cooker to the counter tops.  
  
Though she had spent years away from her home, the place was unsurprisingly immaculate and dust free. Thanks to Ian no doubt. Not only was this her home but also it proved to be Ian's safe haven, a respite from Irons. And from the looks of things, he has been here quite often. Nothing was out of place but she could just sense it, feel it in the air.  
  
Faith stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Walking over to one of the sofas, Faith deposited the tape and envelope onto the cushions. Planning to watch it after her shower. She walked through the archway and turned left towards her room. On the opposite end of the hall were Ian's room and an extra spare room right next door. At the other end of the hall was a metal spiral staircase that disappeared into the ceiling, up above the next floor. Best known as the training room.  
  
Faith dropped her bag the moment she stepped into her room. She headed straight to her bathroom, shedding her clothes, and weapons along the way. A half an hour later, Faith emerged room the shower feeling clean and rejuvenated. Continuing to dry her hair with the extra towel, Faith made her way to her walk in closet, pulling down a pair of black slacks and another turtleneck sleeveless silk blouse this time in a dark red color. She laid the articles of clothes onto her bed, sat down in front of the vanity mirror, and quickly started to brush out her hair. After tying it up in a ponytail, Faith quickly changed. Donning not only her clothes but the weapons she had shed earlier and her leather jacket.  
  
She grabbed her bag, dumped out her clothes into the hamper, and headed towards Ian's room. Ian's clothes from last night were ruined and he needed something to wear. She doubted Gabe and Ian were the same size. Even if they were, Gabe's sense of fashion was definitely not Ian. She stuffed the bag with a set of clean clothes and headed out for the living room.  
  
Faith picked up the tape she found in the car and slipped it into the VCR. While waiting for it to play, she opened the envelope and scattered what looked like newspaper clippings of old murders onto the coffee table.  
  
"My name is Officer James Pezzini. New York Police Department, badge number 7945." Faith looked up as she heard the voice. It was Sara's father. Faith watched the video with great interest.  
  
"The date is February 22, 1984. If you're watching this ... it means that I'm already dead. And if I am, the likely reason is I've been working to expose a corrupt secret society within the New York P.D. They call themselves the White Bulls. I believe the White Bulls have been operating in the department for decades. They rule by intimidation. They, they abuse the badge in every possible way. And this," He held up a shell casing of a bullet with a bull engraved on it, "is their trademark.  
  
They use this round when the Bulls want to assassinate one of their enemies. If one of their members finds this shell at a murder scene, he'll desist in his investigation of that crime. And they're currently in a renaissance, led by this deadly band of new young recruits ... most notably this rising young sergeant by the name of Bruno Dante. And they go way up the ranks. Too far for me to solve the problem by any internal means."  
  
Faith leaned back into the sofa watching as the video neared its end. Stopping the tape, she pressed rewind on the remote control. She looked down at the newspaper clippings, then back up when the tape had stopped rewinding. She stood up and ejected the tape from the VCR. "Ian what were you planning on doing with this?" she said aloud tapping the video into her palm. "Guess I'll just have to find out."  
  
She gathered the news clipping and tape and stuffed them into a manila envelope. Picking up the bag she rushed out of the door and down to the garage. She got into the car, throwing the bag into the back and the envelope under the passenger seat. While waiting for the garage door to lift, she wondered about the video. She had only heard of the White Bulls but there was never any evidence of their existence. Until now that is. So, how is Ian involved in this?  
  
With the car in gear, she drove the car forward, enough to clear the door. She got out and walked over to the metal panel, entering the code and locking up her home. Getting in, Faith quickly sped down the alley, heading quickly for Gabriel's place. 


	59. Chapter fifty nine

Gabe sat uneasily in his chair, trying his best to concentrate on work but it was getting difficult with every minute. He kept eyeing the bedroom door, nervously waiting for that moment when it would fly open and the battered assassin would jump out. When it didn't he exhaled a long breath of relief. Easing back into his chair, Gabe tried again to get some work done. But it was useless.  
  
He got up and started pacing the room. The humming of the refrigerator and the shuffling of his feet were the only sounds that echoed in the loft. Earlier, Gabe had tried to fill the room with the blaring sound of music but had quickly shut off his stereo, remembering his guest sleeping in the the bedroom. Gabe decided that he would sit in a quiet solitude among the ancient and arcane items in the room rather then risking the chance of walking 'sleeping beauty'.  
  
Yet, after hours of being stuck in an eerie silence he could not take it any more. He was tempted to turn on his stereo, only to drown out the silence. He held the remote in his hand, contemplating if he should.  
  
"What if he wakes up?" Gabe started thinking aloud, "Then what?" He started tapping the remote against his palm. "But he won't wake up right? I mean Faith gave him a sedative. She said he'd be out for hours." He glanced over to the clock on his desk to check the time. "It's been hours! The effects could be wearing off by now." Gabe continued his pacing and the two-sided conversation he was having with himself.  
  
"He could be up right now! Ready to just."  
  
"Damn it Bowman, calm down. You're getting paranoid. Faith had told Nottingham to be on his best behavior."  
  
"Oh, yeah, like THAT is reassuring."  
  
So caught up in his musings he did not hear someone walk up behind him. The person reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "AH!" he screamed, jumping back and bumping into his desk. One hand against his chest, over his heart. The other held out to ward off his attacker with his weapon, the remote control.  
  
"Angel! It's me!" Faith reassured while reaching out to him.  
  
"Jesus! You scared the crap out of me!" He yelled at her.  
  
"I'm sorry, Angel." Faith was unsuccessfully trying to hold in her amusement. A few chuckles managed to escape her lips.  
  
"It is not funny, Faith. You almost gave me a heart attack." He exclaimed while attempting to lower his racing heartbeat.  
  
"I didn't mean to scare you. It wasn't my fault you did not hear me." Not that he would have heard her in the first place. Before making her presence known, Faith had been watching him pace back and forth while talking to himself. Her assessment earlier had been right, Gabe was freaking out. The image brought another smile to her face.  
  
Gabe caught sight of her smile and said, "Oh, I'm glad I could humor you, Faith. You know I'm never going to forgive you for that." He declared, slumping down into his chair, arms crossed, and a scowl on his face.  
  
"Oh, come on. Yes, you will. I know you, Gabe. You can't stay mad at me for too long." Confidently she sauntered towards him, "Besides I have peace offerings for you." She held up a white bag and a large styrofoam cup filled with his favorite coffee. She set the offerings on top of the desk.  
  
Trying to sound impassive he said, "What's that?" Yet, he grew increasingly interested, as the mouth-watering combination of smells wafted to his nose. His anger already fading. "It's called food, Angel. You know the substance your body requires, which," Gabe's stomach took that moment to join the conversation, "From what I've just heard, you've been lacking in feeding yourself." She shook her head and raised an eyebrow at him. "So eat up my malnourished and frightened, Angel." She teased.  
  
He glared at her and Faith could not help but laugh. "You know, I'm suddenly not very hungry." Gabe childishly stated while his stomach growled in protest.  
  
"You're kinda cute when you pout like that."  
  
"Really?" He beamed.  
  
"Will I be forgiven for scaring you if I say yes?" She asked.  
  
"Hm, keep dishing out more compliments and we'll see." Gabe wiggled his eyebrows up and down, a smile on his face.  
  
"I tell you what. You eat your breakfast like a good Angel and I'll give you a treat later." She started to giggle when Gabe immediately attacked the bag. "Now, while you are doing that I'll go check up on Ian. How was he by the way? He did not wake up while I was gone, did he?" With a mouth full of blueberry danish, Gabe shook his head no.  
  
"Good I made it back in time. It should be wearing off right about now." She hiked the strap higher onto her shoulder. "What's in the bag? More goodies for me?" Gabe managed to say over a mouth full of pastry.  
  
"A set of clothes for Ian."  
  
Gabe's eyes widen, he quickly gulped down the food that was in his mouth but with a bit of difficulty.  
  
"Angel, you're supposed to chew your food not swallow it whole. You all right?"  
  
Gabe ignored the question and started to say, "You went back to the mansion? Are you crazy?"  
  
"I'm not stupid, Angel."  
  
Happy that she didn't go back for Ian's clothes, Gabe started to carefully drink his coffee.  
  
".I got it from my place, of course." Faith informed.  
  
Gabe spewed out the coffee that was in his mouth and began to choke. "Angel!" Faith rushed over to him and started patting his back. She stopped when his coughing subsided. He grabbed a napkin and wiped up his chin and mouth. After clearing his throat, Gabe started to ask, "You and Nottingham live together?" The green-eyed monster was rearing its ugly head.  
  
"Not exactly," she impassively replied.  
  
"What do you mean 'not exactly'? Either you live with the guy or you don't. So what is it?" Faith was surprised to hear the anger in his voice. "Why does that matter?" She wanted to know. One minute they were having a friendly banter and now he was yelling at her all because he thinks Ian was living with her.  
  
"It matters to me alright. Now answer the question, Faith." Gabe got up from his chair, and heatedly walked up to her, quickly closing the gap between them.  
  
Faith rubbed the side of her temple, willing the upcoming headache to go away. She did not need this right now. "Angel now is not the time to be talking about this. I have to go see Ian." She started for the door. "That's right, go to your precious Ian. He calls you obey, right." Faith stopped short and sharply turned around. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I haven't seen you in what five years now. We've managed to keep in touch over the years, great. Still, every time I would ask you to come down for at least a visit you say no you can't, you're too busy. You know what I understood, and I never complained to you about it. Now, Nottingham gives you a ring, you drop everything, and you are on the next concord jet back here. You expect me to believe that 'he's more like a brother' crap. There's more between you two isn't there."  
  
Faith forced the anger that was rising, and as calmly as possible said, "You don't know what you are talking about. I'm going to see Ian and give you some time to cool down because it's pretty obvious that you need it." She started for the bedroom again.  
  
"Fine, walk away. Keep your secrets. Don't let me in. Its not as if I don't care or love you or anything like that. Keep them all inside like you always do." He yelled after her.  
  
"You know what Gabriel I don't have to justify myself or my actions to you but I will. I'll satiate that curiosity of yours and perhaps ease you're jealousy." Faith said over her shoulder. She dropped the bag on the floor, sharply turned around, and coldly stared back at Gabriel, her icy blue eyes boring into his. "I've already explained the kind of relationship Ian and I have. Ian, whether he is of my blood or not, he IS my brother. The only family that I have and I am his. Yet, you seem to have a problem accepting that. You continue to assume there is more between us.  
  
Yes, there is more between us I mean there should be. He knows about my dark and bleak past. He knows everything about me. Would you like to know why Ian knows so much?" Faith's voice became low, menacing, and unattached. Gabe inadvertently shivered; he could have sworn the room had just dropped about ten degree. The Faith that stood before him now was not the same woman. She was different and she was frightening.  
  
Faith continued her voice calm but her eyes were fierce, "Because Gabriel, Ian and I grew up together. We went through the same horrors, the same pain, and the same nightmares. We bleed and we cried together and for each other. That is our history that is our sibling bond. You know what I am glad that Ian is not of my blood. At least his is not tainted like mines. This is the 'more' in our relationship, Gabriel. Either you accept that or you don't. That's your problem."  
  
She couldn't believe she was finally telling him of her past. But once it started she needed to finish it. Faith paused in her explanation; the next part was going to be hard for her to explain. Because now, Gabriel was going to know who she really was. It was something she did not want him to know. She had tried so hard to shelter that part of her life away from him. But he had been so damn annoying and persistent. His determination added to the past events of the last few hours had weighed on her patience and her resolve had finally worn out.  
  
She inhaled and started again, "You wanted an explanation why I just dropped everything for Ian? He is my family. That should have been enough. Apparently, it's not enough for you so I'll get into more details for you. You see Gabriel; I have been in Ian's place a few times myself. You've seen Ian's back, the blood, the marred flesh, and the scars. His back mirrors my own."  
  
The horrid look on Gabriel's face will forever be imprinted in Faith's mind. This was what she was afraid of. That after revealing her terrible past, that Gabe would shun her away. Be reviled for who she was. Faith willed the tears from not coming and continued, "But I believe Ian's is far worst them mines. Nevertheless, that's why I came, Gabriel. I knew what was going to happen to Ian, I just did not imagine how severe it was going to be. Do you know why Ian is still alive? Because Irons was too exhausted to continue beating him. Irons was/is an unmerciful man."  
  
Gabriel stood there, listening to everything Faith was saying. Her words, the emotions presented in her eyes, she was telling him everything. But had yet to say what was clearly obvious. He could see it was hurting her inside to be revealing all this to him and he felt like a complete asshole for pushing her so hard, baiting her, yelling at her, forced her to open her own Pandora's box. He wanted her to stop but he could not find the words to tell her. Because deep down he wanted to know everything. So he could become the better friend that she needed him to be.  
  
Finally when Gabe had found his voice, he spoke, "So you're saying that you, uh, you're, that Irons is..  
  
"My father?" Faith finished for him.  
  
Gabe nodded his head, "Yeah."  
  
"Yes, he is. I am Kenneth Irons' daughter." Finally, she had said it. A weight was lifted from her shoulders. Happy that besides Ian someone else knew the truth. Yet, the panic and dread overwhelmed her happiness. She had yet to witness how Gabriel was going to take the news.  
  
He stood there shocked and bewildered. Though he had been putting the pieces together while she spoke, to actually hear her say it was something else. The silence was becoming unbearable and Faith turned to leave. She picked up the bag and headed for the bedroom. Gabe watched her leave, he wanted to stop her and tell how he felt about what she had told him but was rooted in place. Perhaps this little break will give him time to gather what he'll say to her.  
  
Faith gently closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Its good that you told him." Ian's voice though strained and weak carried across the room. She could hear distinctive sounds of him shuffling on the bed. He was probably sitting on the edge of the bed, his arms spread to the side supporting his weight, unkempt hair tumbling around his face, and the white bandage, now soiled with blood, a contrast to his tanned skin.  
  
"How can you say that?" She snorted, without bothering to open her eyes. "What makes you so sure telling him was a good idea?"  
  
"Because now you have someone, besides me, that knows. That will understand."  
  
"Understand what, Ian?" That I'm some kind of freak?" She heatedly exclaimed. She quickly bit her tongue as the words left her mouth. Faith was still upset and some of that anger had slipped out. Undeservingly snapping at him, "I'm sorry Ian." She added. However, she still did not see the logic in bringing her Angel into the nightmares of her past. Revealing secrets, she wanted to keep, perhaps even taking it to the grave.  
  
"He will understand now that there no lies, no secrets between you two. He will have no reason to feel jealous or unworthy of your trust."  
  
Faith opened her eyes this time, and disbelievingly stared at him. Sure enough, as she had imagined, Ian was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her from under the veil of hair. "I never said I did not trust him."  
  
"Yet, you kept a part of your past from him. You did not tell him everything." Ian accused.  
  
"I kept THAT part from him for a reason, Ian." This time she snapped at him and was not sorry for it. "I did that for his own good, to protect him. The less he knew the safer he was."  
  
"You were distancing yourself to keep him safe then?" He questioned.  
  
"Yes, was that so wrong of me?" Faith flayed her arms out in frustration.  
  
"No, it is never wrong wanting to protect those you care about. But at the same time, you were hurting him. Making him feel inadequate, left out, unworthy, and angry because you refused to confide in him." Interesting, it sounded as if he was talking about himself. Those were feeling he felt when Sara refused to accept him. He pushed the thought aside and continued, "And I'm sure he must have felt jealous about us."  
  
"I already explained to him about our relationship. Gabriel should not have to feel that way." She sank down to sit next to him on the bed.  
  
"Gabriel did not know about our, your past. All he saw was you choosing me over him."  
  
"Argh, why can't you two see the logic in my decisions?" Faith dropped her head onto her hands, "Why must men be so complicating and frustrating?" She muttered.  
  
Ian grinned, "To keep women on their toes, of course." He sighed, "Why don't you just left him in? What is the worst that can happen if you did?"  
  
"The worst?" She looked up from her hands, her brows rose up, "The worst is that he could turn me away. That he would want to end our friendship."  
  
"Gabriel does not strike me as the type of person that would do that to those he cares about. And he cares deeply for you, Faith." Ian stated.  
  
"Actually, he's in love with me," Faith informed.  
  
"Better yet," Ian smiled.  
  
"No, it is not," her raised her voice, "It is not better, Ian. I don't want him to be in love with me." She got up and started to pace the room.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he's better off with someone else, okay."  
  
"What are you afraid of, Faith?"  
  
Faith whirled around and was about to tell Ian off but she found she couldn't. She knelt in front of him, the tears began to stream down her face. "I'm afraid that I could fall in love with him too. I'm terrified that if I let him in he will see how truly fucked up I am and leave."  
  
Ian reached out to cup her face with his hands. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, "If you he loves you like you say he does, then that will never happen. His love for you will only grow stronger."  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Her voice cracked as she pleaded to answer. Because he too was in love with a stubborn woman. And if Sara finally decided to let him in then they would become inseparable. He believed that a person could only grow stronger with every trial and tribulations. It was how they had survived growing up under Irons' custody. But he was not Gabriel and he did not know how strong his resolve was.  
  
"I can't but don't you think it is time you to stop running?" Faith fell silent. "Take it from someone who knows," he added sadly.  
  
She nodded her head as his words sank in. Taking her hands, she began to wipe away the last vestige of tears from her face. "I should kick your ass for making me cry and you know how I despise crying, Ian."  
  
Ian held back his amusement, he knew too well. She so rarely cried, always fighting against the emotions that would overwhelm her like that.  
  
"You may beat me up after I have fully recovered, my dear sister." He teased.  
  
His little joke quickly pulled her back to the matter at hand. Ian hand been so busy taking care of her she had forgotten about his injuries. "Feeling better?" He asked still taking care of her when it should be the other way around.  
  
"Yes, thank you. Now, it's my turn to take care of you." Faith opened the medical bag she had left behind and began rummaging for the items she needed. While catering to his needs, Ian asked about Sara.  
  
Faith began to recount her early morning activities. She left nothing out. She discussed about the clone, seeing the strange man, the Witchblade inviting her into Sara's apartment, her watch over the wielder, and then finally ending the recap with the wonderful encounter with Sara Pezzini. Ian could not help but smile, "Sara does make quite the first impression."  
  
"Oh, yeah, great first impression," Faith replied with sarcasm, "Nothing like looking down the barrel of a gun and greeted with such colorful language to start the morning. Why didn't you warn me she was such a bitch? I hear she is an avid coffee drinker. I should have made a pot while she slept. At least she would have only greeted me with a gun. Because her mouth would have been too busy drinking coffee to curse me out." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Sara.is..Sara. It just takes time to get use to her. She has many interesting traits. She's smart, funny, caring, loving.."  
  
"A pain in the ass," Faith whispered to herself.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Nothing," she smiled innocently.  
  
They continued to talk while Faith inspected the rest of his body. She was happy that his fever had gone down considerably, and the minor much smaller cuts were already knitting together. Still the more severe wounds, those that required stitching, had yet to start healing. But Dr. Immo had warned her that the injuries Ian has sustained was going to take more then the normal (in Ian's case) one and a half day. Faith estimated that Ian would recover, albeit not fully, in two days.  
  
Faith knelt down in front of him to examine the rather large discoloration that covered his left side, above his rib cage. She shouldn't be surprised that Irons had managed to break a few ribs. "You may have a few broken ribs." Gently she began to feel any deformity around the area.  
  
"They are just bruised," He tried to reassure but hissed in pain when she started touching the tender area. Faith heard the crunching type sound and instantly knew. She ordered him to slowly lift his arm, not halfway up; Ian winced at the sharp pain and quickly dropped his arm onto his lap.  
  
"Bruised my ass, you got a couple of broken ribs Ian. I haven't seen you cough up any blood and you're breathing seems to be all right. Nevertheless, we will just have to see. Which means you NEED to take it easy and REST." She emphasizes. Finding nothing else besides more bruises, Faith began covering the more severe wounds on his back. "I'll get you an ice pack to put over your ribs, it will help reduce some of the pain."  
  
While patiently waiting for Faith to finish cleaning up, Ian asked, "What did you mean when you said Sara cried out my name? How did it sound like? Do you think the blade showed Sara a vision of my punishment?" He sounded a bit hopeful. Ian was not going to tell Faith that he was disappointed that Sara did not come for him while being chained up in that room.  
  
"The blade was rather active on her wrist. It could have showed her anything." She said from the bathroom. When she came back, he seen Ian lower his head, she did not miss the disappointment in his eyes. "But I suspect that it did. When she called out your name, there was no denying that there was fear laced in her cry. I seen the look on her face when she finally woke up, and for that split moment she was terrified."  
  
"Really?" Faith nodded and for the first time she had seen hope return in his eyes.  
  
Now, it was Faith's turn to ask questions. "Ian, I think it is time you tell me what happened. Before you called me and after." He exhaled slowly; he knew it wouldn't be long before she asked.  
  
While in the middle of Ian's accounts of events Faith started to pace the room again. Her hands flexing by her sides. "That was when I called you."  
  
"Hey, you still want to know what I think of your Lady? Though I must warn you, my thoughts are as colorful as her language." She was fuming over Sara's treatment of Ian. It all made sense now. The dejection in his voice when he had called her. Argh! That brought up the other question, "Why did you leave your ring?" But deep down she already knew. "After my encounter with Sara I just felt defeated, depressed, I did not have the strength to go any more. My patience was gone and so was my will to live. I wanted to leave a part of me behind." Now she was angry with both. Angry at Sara for making him feel that way and angry with Ian for giving up.  
  
"But something happened on the way to the mansion, didn't it?"  
  
"Lazar happened." Faith remembered the lone figure beneath the streetlamp earlier. That must have been Lazar. Ian began to explain his conversation with him. How Lazar made him realize his purpose in life. From there, he had finally reached the decision to leave Irons to serve Sara. Faith will have to express her gratitude the next time she sees him.  
  
Ian continued and Faith intently listened to every agonizing detail. "The next thing I knew I woke up to find you there, rescuing me." Ian finished off. She sat besides him, a number of emotions mixing inside her. Angry at Sara, her ever growing hatred for her father, the pain she was not able to spare Ian from, fear that she had almost lost him, deep-seated pride that Ian finally stood up to Irons, and then the relief that she had arrived in time.  
  
'Sara and I will need another heart to heart discussion soon.' However the more she thought about it Sara's actions reflected her own when it came to Gabriel. Pushing them away, using their logic of 'keeping them safe' as an excuse from getting too close to them. The only difference in her case was that Ian was there to set her straight, to open her eyes, and made her understand. Perhaps she will be that person for Sara. Maybe they can have that discussion over a few friendly rounds of boxing, a nice long sparring session sounded nice. She grinned at that thought.  
  
Ian knew that look but did not want to ask about it. He just hoped that whatever she was thinking about she would not act upon it any time soon. Because he had a funny feeling, it was about Sara. Ian spotted the duffle bag near the door, "I assume that is for me?"  
  
Faith pulled herself out of her thoughts and walked over to retrieve the bag. "Yes, I brought you some clothes from the apartment." Faith dumped them on the bed and started helping Ian dress. Leaving him shirtless because of the ice pack he was going to be using on his ribs later. While tying his hair in a loose ponytail, Faith brought up the situation with the tape and news clippings she found in the trunk of the car.  
  
"I was on orders to steal it from a box of affect that her retired Captain, Joe Siri, left for her." He sat and leaned back to the pillows Faith had fixed for him.  
  
"Why do you have it?"  
  
"I was planning to anonymously return the tape along with those clipping to Sara. She needs to know about the White Bulls. Her Captain, Bruno Dante, heads the White Bulls and he despises her. I believe some of his animosity towards her carried over from his hatred he had for her father. He would love nothing more then to get rid of Sara." Ian's eyes grew cold and angry. He crushed the sheets under his hand.  
  
"Don't worry Ian, your Lady is well protected. I will not let anything happen to her, I swear." Faith reassured, and Ian's tension eased a bit. Yet, he was still worried.  
  
"Up until now Irons had managed to keep Dante under his control and away from Sara. Though I believe Dante will soon forsake Irons orders and go after Sara along with a few other White Bull members."  
  
She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Now, that she knew what to do with the evidence she would need to leave now to make it to the precinct before Sara arrived back from their morning round up. "I have to leave now if I am to deliver the tape and clippings to Sara."  
  
"Be careful of her partner, Jake McCarthy." Faith was surprised to hear the hatred in Ian's voice as he spat out the name. "He's an undercover FBI agent and a new member of the White Bulls. I do not trust him, Faith." His voice was low and ominous. She would need to find out more on that later.  
  
"Duly noted, Ian. Swear to me that you will stay in bed and rest. And don't you dare leave this place, understood?" She threatens. Ian nodded his head in answer.  
  
Faith paused at the door; Gabriel was in the other room probably waiting for her. "You'll do fine, Faith. Just don't shut him out anymore." Ian advised. Taking deep breaths, she calmed her frayed nerves and opened the door. Bracing for rounds two.  
  
Gabe sat in the kitchen, anxiously waiting for Faith's return. He stood up when he heard the door open and closed. Nervously, he placed his hands into his pockets and waited for her. He could hear her footsteps getting closer as she neared. Faith stopped in her tracks when she found him in the kitchen. They stood facing each other, a few feet separating them. The tension hung heavily in the air as nether one spoke. Unable to stand the silence much longer both started to speak.  
  
"Faith I'm sorry.  
  
"I'm sorry, Angel.  
  
They stopped unsure who should speak first. Gabe took the initiative and started.  
  
"Look Faith let me say a few things first before you kick my ass and end our relationship.wait, did you just call me Angel?" If she did then his hopes had hiked up a notch.  
  
"Yes, I did but please continue."  
  
"Okay," he started, "First of all I wanted to apologize for being an asshole earlier. But let me explain the reasons why I acted the way I did. You have to understand things from my point of view. We've never talked about your past; you would always avoid it, constantly shutting me out. So naturally, when you told me about Nottingham, well I got jealous. Wait, don't say any thing just listen for a minute, okay?" Faith swallowed what she was going to say.  
  
"I know you explained your relationship with him is strictly more of a sibling nature. Still the fact remains; he is not your 'real' brother. Therefore, there was still a chance for the relationship to change into something more intimate. But that is only part of why I got jealous and upset. You and Nottingham share this bond, this connection with each other. Something I wanted with us. Yet, you kept pushing me away.  
  
Then I exploded over the whole 'living arrangement'. It just made me realize just how close you and Nottingham really are. How much trust you have in him, so much, you would confide in him. I felt you didn't care or trust *me* enough to do the same with me. And it hurt a lot. So I yelled at you and said those things only to hurt you, so you would feel what I was feeling."  
  
Gabe lowered his head, "Then you finally started telling me about your past, how much you've suffered and all the pain you went through. Now, I am sorry I forced you into telling me, but honestly, I'm glad I did. I started to understand. I mean I felt like an asshole, but everything started to make sense. Now, I know where you are coming from." He cautiously walked closer to her. Closing the gap between them.  
  
"Even when it's coming from the general direction of Kenneth Irons?" Faith mused.  
  
"I don't care that Kenneth Irons is your father. All I care about is you." He reached out to caress her cheek. Smiling when she leaned into his touch. "Are you done, Angel?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am."  
  
"Okay now it's my turn." She reached up to grab the hand that was on her cheek. "I did not have a normal childhood, Angel. It was full of pain, blood, and disappointments. That was not something I wanted to share with you. I kept my past from you for a reason. To protect you. No," She pressed her fingers against his lips to stop him form speaking, "I held my tongue while you talked. Now hold yours." Gabe nodded his head.  
  
"However, I did not realize I was also doing it to protect myself as well. If Ian had not pointed that out to me, I never would have known. He opened my eyes to see my faults in my logic. While I kept you at a safe distance, I was running away at the same time. You see, Angel I was afraid of getting hurt. I was afraid that after revealing my dark past you would see how messed up I am and decide to leave me. You've become very important in my life, Angel. I just did not want to take that chance. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yeah I do. And I swear to you that no matter what I will never leave you. My feelings for you will never change; well only for the better of course. I love you too much to let you go, Faith." Gabe's eyes shone with such intensity she had to look away. He mistook her gesture and started to apologize, "I'm sorry, Faith. I shouldn't have said that."  
  
"No, its okay. I'm glad you did."  
  
"Yeah, but I know you don't feel the same way and I keep hoping that you would. But." Gabe was cut off when Faith's mouth covered his. It only took a second for him to register that she was kissing him and not the other way around. It was a slow and tender kiss, an affirmation to their new relationship. Faith reluctantly pulled back.  
  
Gabe dreamily stared at her, "Does this mean.what I think it does?"  
  
Faith smiled, "It's a start, Angel."  
  
"A start is good. Won't hear me complain." Gabe still needed a little reassurance that this wasn't all a dream; he slowly leaned in for another kiss. Faith was more then happy to oblige. She traced his lips with her tongue, coaxing his mouth to open. And when he did, she delved deeper into his mouth. This kiss was long and passionate. Gabe smiles against her lips when they finally pulled apart.  
  
"Sorry, Angel but I need to go. We'll talk more when we have more time. By the way, do you have a large manila envelope? I need one, oh, and a marker."  
  
"Yeah sure, I'll be right back." As Gabe walked, there was an extra spring to his step. He came back with a marker and the envelope. She placed the ice pack she got from his freeze on the table and took the pen and envelope. She clearly wrote out 'Sara Pezzini' in front. "Should I ask what that is about?"  
  
"No, Angel. But here take this," she handed him the ice pack.  
  
"Okay, I have to ask. What do you want me to do with this?" He subtly looks down his pants, happy to find nothing embarrassing. That last kiss definitely did something to his. "I need you to give that to Ian." And suddenly the kiss was the last thing on his mind. "Whoa, whoa, uh ah, you give it to Nottingham."  
  
"He has a name, Angel. It's Ian."  
  
"Wait a minute, he's awake and you're leaving me here alone with him. Can't you put him back to sleep with another sedative or something?"  
  
"As tempting as that sounds, it wouldn't be a good idea. Beside it's a perfect chance for you to thank him."  
  
Gabe narrowed his eyes, "Why do I have to thank Notti.Ian?"  
  
"Because if it wasn't for my sweet brother, defending you, and opening my eyes. This," she gestured between them, "New relationship, wouldn't have happened. Look, give Ian a chance. Get to know him, you are going to find out he is not so bad as you though. He is not going to hurt you, I promise. Trust me. I gotta go. But please do this for me." She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips and left the loft.  
  
Gabe stood in the kitchen, with the ice pack numbing his hand. He sighed and started to walk over to the bedroom. He knocked once, twice then opened it. Sticking his head through the crack, he could see Nottingham sitting up, leaning into the pillows; his head bent back, and eyes closed. 'Please do this for me,' Faith's voice pleaded in his mind and he continued forward, leaving the door wide open. Gabriel stopped at the foot of the bed, keeping some distance. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. Ian made no knowledge of it. He remained as he was.  
  
Gabe tried to decipher whether or not he was sleeping but couldn't tell from this angel. He looked at the man lying in the bed. Ian looked better then what he had seen from earlier but still he still looked like hell. He realized the bandage wrap was gone, but he could see a rather nasty bruise on the side. Reminding him why he was in here in the first place. "Um, Faith, had to leave but she said to give this to you." Gabe dropped the ice pack as if it was suddenly on fire, landing next to Ian's thigh.  
  
Ian finally looked up at Gabe. "Thank you." He grabbed the ice pack and pressed it lightly against his bruised side. "No problem," Gabe muttered and beeline it for the door but stopped in mid-step. He turned around and started to say, "Faith told me that I should thank you."  
  
"For?" Ian looked at him.  
  
"She said that you were the reason why we are together, now."  
  
"Ah, I see. You don't have to thank me. I love my sister and I care for her happiness. That is why I did it." Ian stated.  
  
"She also said that you defended me. What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Ian sighed, "I understand what you were going through with my sister. I know how it feels when you care for someone so much it hurts when they turn you away. I understood your feelings, and your fears. I simply pointed them out to her."  
  
Gabe nodded his head, "Yeah well, um, thanks Notti.Ian." He was about to close the door behind him when Ian spoke out, "Mr. Bowman?" he pushed the door back open. "I know you love my sister. But I warn you, break her heart and I will break your neck." Ian forewarned. Gabe gulped and absently reached for his neck. Ian could not hide the smile forming on his lips, "Then again she'll probably do it herself."  
  
'Whoa! Was that a joke coming from Nottingham?'  
  
"Gotcha, Notti.Ian." Gabe stood in the doorway, an idea forming in his mind.  
  
"Is there something you want, Mr. Bowman?" Ian asked.  
  
He slowly walked back to the foot of the bed, he placed his hand into his pockets, "Yeah, I was wondering if you would mind telling me about Faith. You now how she was as a kid. Stuff like that."  
  
"Trying to gather some insider information from her bedridden brother, Mr. Bowman?" He grinned.  
  
"Something like that. And the name is Gabriel."  
  
"Alright, Gabriel, why don't you have a seat. I don't want a kink in my neck all because I had to look up at you the whole time."  
  
Gabe complied, grabbed a chair from the other room, and sat down near the foot of the bed. 


	60. Chapter Sixty

A/N: I must apologize for the long wait. RL kicked my muses to the curb for a while and I had a mild case of writer's block. Thankfully, my muses fought back. So here's more. Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think. Thanks. Spin =)

~*~

With the manila envelope securely held in her hand, Faith easily strolled into the busy precinct. The desk Sergeant that was managing the front had left his post to break up a fight nearby along with two other officers. Faith quickly took the opportunity and slipped the package into one of the slots of the 'In' racks.

She turned to leave but stopped when she spotted an old man with blonde hair on the pay phone. Instead of using the phone, he looked straight at her and gave her a slight nod. Just as he hung up the receiver, the double doors behind him burst open. 

"Males to the right, please.  Females to the left.  Let's go.  Let's keep it moving.  Males to the right. Females to the left. Very good. Very orderly and very quiet, please." Jake ordered as he and a few other officers ushered the small crowd. "Males to the right, females to the left." Jake's commanding voice pulled Faith out of her trance. 

Faith blinked and shook her head. The old man was gone. She looked around the crowded area but he wasn't there. Could that have been Lazar, the man Ian was telling her about? She had no time to contemplate over the idea she needed to leave, now. However, Sara's partner, Jake McCarty, now blocked her only exit. "Damn," she muttered under her breath when she spotted the wielder coming up from the rear.

She let out a sigh and blended into the background. Waiting for the moment to leave without being detected by Sara. Faith stood in the corner, her head lowered, but her eyes glued on Sara's every movement. Her voiced echoing in the distance, "Anyone acquainted with the deceased flesh peddler, Mr. Prospero McQueen, please raise your hands." 

Nearly everyone in the crowded area raised his or her hands. It was Jake's turn to ask the questions, "Anyone not acquainted with Prospero, please raise your hands." The hands that were raised dropped and only a slight few had raised his or her hand. Jake gave his partner that 'this is going to be a long day' look. Sara closes her eyes and drops her head back for a moment. Sighing in frustration, she opened her eyes, and brought her head back forward. The blade began to swirl on her wrist and that was when she noticed the large manila envelope, with her name on it, sitting on the desk. 

Faith watched as Sara picked up the package, turned to her partner and said, "Hey, rookie. Give me a minute." In the distance, Faith could here her partner, Jake, sarcastically reply, "Oh, sure. Take two, ten, an hour. Leave me here." From where she stood, Faith could see Sara's back. It was obvious she was watching the tape. 

A moment later Sara got up from her desk and suspiciously looked around before closing the door. Faith could only imagine the shock and confusion Sara must be going through right now. To be watching her late father on a tape confessing the knowledge of a corrupt league of police officers. Not only that but the mention of her current captian, Bruno Dante to be the White Bulls' leader. 

Speaking of the devil, Sara's antagonistic captain happened to stroll in with two other officers flanking on either side of him. Faith waited in anticipation as Sara, who was called back by Jake, reappeared from her office. All, except Faith, were oblivious to the incisive look Sara gave Dante as she passed him. Faith waited in anticipation to see if Sara would act upon her feelings after viewing the tape. Sara gave Dante one last scathing look and concentrated her anger and confusion to other matters. 

"Hey, hey," Sara started confronting one of the female prostitute who was currently hassling Jake, "We got a dead pimp. Your pimp. Can you prove that you didn't kill him?"

The woman quickly stopped her protesting and stared at Sara. With a raised eyebrow she answered, "Prove it. No."

"Well then why don't you sit down and shut up." 

The woman pressed her lips together in a pout, rolled her eyes at Sara, and walked away. Faith smirked as she watched how well Sara handled that woman. Sara shook her head in irritation. "May be I explained it wrong?" Jake shrugged his shoulders, "How the hell do you find the truth when everybody lies?" he asked. 

"I asked my dad that question once. He answered, 'Diogenes.'" 

"Diogenes?" Jake replied.

"Yeah."

"Who's Diogenes?" Jake asked again.

"Look him up," Sara shortly replied. With a sigh, Jake turned around back to his paperwork. 

Sara eyes wandered over to a woman sitting on one of the benches. Her odd behavior catching Sara's attention. Unlike her friends, she sat there quietly. Trying her best not to be noticed. She started looking around the precinct, as if paranoid something was going to happen to her even while in the protective custody of over thirty police officers. Sara continued to watch her, when suddenly the blade threw her into a vision. Faith noticed the faint glow of the blade on Sara's wrist and realized what it was doing.

The blade showed Sara the deceased victim arguing with someone. She was never shown the face but from the badge that was clipped on his belt, the shooter was a cop. The blade then showed her that there was actually a witness to the murder. It was the blonde woman that was sitting in front of her. 

Sara was pulled out of the vision when the same protesting prostitute snapped her fingers in front of Sara's face. "This is discrimina…" But quickly stopped, and moved on to Jake when she realized Sara was not paying any attention to her. Sara's focus was intent on the blonde woman. 

Jake and the prostitute began to argue until Sara spoke up, "Hey Jake, let her go." She said over her shoulder. Not bothering to take her eyes off of the woman.

"What?" Jake answered, confused by Sara's order. 

"Let 'em all go. All except this one." She pointed to the blonde woman. 

"Are you nuts? We just spent the last two hours rounding 'em up."

"Cut them loose, Jake. Put this one in an overnight hold." The woman looked up when she realized that Sara was referring to her and began shaking her head. Nervously, she turned her head towards the direction where Dante and another officer were standing. Sara followed her gaze, and so did Faith. Sara recognized Orlinsky standing with Dante. She knew something was up. Therefore, she decided to find some answers with the one person who would be able to help her. "I gotta go see somebody." With that said, Sara walked off. Leaving Jake behind to handle things. 

"Right now? Thanks a lot partner." Jake protested while watching Sara's retreating back. 

Faith sat there for a few more minutes. Watching Dante heatingly talking to the man who was standing with him. Dante pointed in Sara's direction and the officer hurridly walked out of the precinct. No doubt ordered by Dante to follow Sara. Faith walked out and walked over to her car. After getting in she turned on the GPS and smiled, grateful that she had placed a tracker on Sara's bike. 

~*~

Faith pulled up behind a car, a half a block from an old apartment building. Further, down the road, she spotted the officer Dante had sent out parked just a few cars up. She could see that he was on his cell phone, no doubt reporting to Dante on Sara's whereabouts. Faith looked out of the window, wondering who lived here.

"Sara? What are you doing here?" 

"The White Bulls, Joe." 

Joe Siri, Sara's retired captain, opened the door wider, ushering her inside. Before closing it, he took a quick glance out into the hall, making sure that no one was around. Reassured that she was alone, Joe shut and locked the door behind him. He began to pace back and forth, running his hands several times through his hair. Sara observed how suddenly restless he became. 'He knows,' Sara thought.

"The White Bulls, Bruno Dante, my father ... Talk to me, Joe." She nearly pleaded. 

Joe sighed, shaking his head, "There is nothing to talk about."

Sara stared at him, disbelief evident on her face. How can a man she trusted, a man who practically raised her, lie to her? "Please don't lie to me, Joe." He rounded on her, "Sara, I'm out of it. I escaped with my life. I am out of it."

"Well, I'm in it." Sara countered back. "Joe, I need your help."

"No, no, not from me. I'm sorry." Vehemently, shaking his head. 

Sara's heart nearly sank, how could he deny her now? "From who, then?  Anyone I ask could be one of them."

"Sara, you know I care a great deal about you, but please take my advice. Stick with Homicide. Mind your own business. And try to live to retirement. It's wonderful. I've never been more happy." Trying to sound convincing.

Sara snorted, "Mind my own business? You know I can't do that, Joe. C'mon. Talk to me." She looked at him with pleading eyes, "Please," she added. Watching Joe as he battled with his conscious. Running his hand though his greying hair for the umpteenth time. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. He motioned her to sit down.

Sara placed her helmet on the coffee table in front of her and sat on the edge of the couch. She rested her elbows on her knees, clasped her hands together, and gave Joe her full attention. He walked over to the mantel, pulled something out of small box, and sat in his chair. Staring at Sara he started to speak, "The White Bulls killed your Father."

"No, Tommy Gallo killed dad." Sara corrected. The image of Gallo standing behind her father and killing him in that dirty alley flashed before her eyes.

Joe shook his head, "He pulled the trigger, but it was a contract hit."

"What?" She stared at him, "How, how do you know this?" 

Joe started to explain. Telling Sara how he had been first to arrive at the scene. And what he found next to his dead partner's body. "I found this on the ground beside the body." Handing the spent shell with the bulls' engraving on it to Sara. She tore her eyes away from the bullet shell and asked, "What did you do?" Hoping that the one person that both she and her father trusted did something. She was appalled when he said he did nothing.

"What could I do? The Bulls were all around. I could feel eyes boring into my back for weeks afterwards. I know they were watching me. Marie and I were just married. We were about to have our first baby. I didn't want to be next." 

Sara continued to stare at Joe; feeling betrayed by the one man that she thought she could trust. "Would you please say something." Joe begged, after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

"Uh, like what, Joe? Like, uh, like, 'That's all right?'  Like, 'There was nothing you could do?'"

"I was scared," he tried to reason.

"So was dad. It didn't stop him."

"He was a better man than I am. I don't expect your sympathy, Sara. I've carried this burden ever since that night and it has cost me dearly."

"You?" Sara wanted to yell at him. She was the one that lost her father. The only family she had left.

Sara grabbed her helmet, got off the couch and headed for the door. Joe did not attempt to stop her. Sara reached for the lock but stopped and turned around, "If you can answer me one question, I'll grant you my absolution, for whatever that's worth."

"It would mean the world to me."

"Did Bruno Dante," she sneered, "Take out the contract?" Joe simply nodded his head.  

For a moment Sara stood there, letting the information set in. Just as she was reaching for the handle, the door opened. "Sara?" The woman behind responded, surprised registered in her eyes. "Marie," Sara replied. "I was just in the neighborhood. And I thought….Its good seeing you both." Sara looked over her shoulder, "Joe," she nodded and walked out without saying anything else. Marie wanted to question Joe why Sara was here but he simply shook his head.

Faith glanced down at her watch and a half hour later, Sara emerged from the building. She walked over to her bike, laid the helmet on the seat, and pulled out her cell phone. 

Sara pressed the speed dial and moments later started talking to Jake on the other end. Ordering him to have the woman in holding transferred into one of the interrogation rooms and that she was going heading back to the station. After hanging up, she started pulling on her gloves and helmet.

Movement up above a second story window caught Faith's attention. An old man was there looking down, watching Sara. 'Must have been the person Sara visited,' Faith thought. She watched as the older gentleman looked down to Sara and then over to the unmarked police car, parked just a few cars up. 

The sound of Sara revving her bike to life echoed in the quiet neighborhood. She put the bike into gear and sped off. The unmarked police car, followed moments later. Faith stayed back a few more minutes. She looked back up at the second floor and the old man was gone. She noted the address, putting the information aside until she had a chance to speak to Ian again. 

~*~

Two and a half hours later, Sara and Jake emerged from one of the interrogation rooms. They had just finished interrogating Charlene, the blonde prostitute, satisfied with what they had discovered. Verifying what the blade had shown Sara earlier that morning. 

"What do you think?" Jake asked as soon as he closed the door behind him.

"I think everything is connected."

"You gonna buy that a cop is guilty based on a hooker's testimony?" Jake questioned, still not fully buying in on the idea.

Sara on the other hand knew the truth, no thanks to her mystical bracelet. "What? You think she's lying?"

Jake quickly changed his views, seeing how intent Sara was in believing Charlene's statement. "I think she's telling the truth. I don't know how you got it out of her. You barely even asked her a question. Want me to book her as a material witness?"

"No, not yet. Take her back into holding." They needed more evidence. Sold evidence and a prostitute's testimony and the Witchblade were not exactly the best resource in the courts eyes. Especially since, they were going against a New York police officer and a band of corrupt cops. Sara started back to their office.

"What? We gotta move on this." He started to protest, following up behind her.

"Jake, we can hold her for 72 hours. We still have time. Look, just put her in her own cell. Tell her to keep quiet. I gotta decide how I want to play this." Sara's mind began racing by the time she reached the door but ideas had yet to pop up. Charlene was the only witness she had that could help her take down the White Bulls. With a heavy sigh, she collapsed into her chair and buried her head into her hands.

"Sara, you gotta let me in." Jake said while closing the door behind him. 

Looking up from her hands, "I will. Just not here, all right?" She cautiously glanced over her shoulder, over to Dante's closed office door.

Jake shrugged his shoulders, "Where ever you feel, Sara."

"I don't feel safe anywhere," 'Or with anyone,' but she kept that to herself. Sara absently reached up to clutch Ian's ring that hung around her neck. 'Damn it, where are you?' she thought. The image of him chained up still etched into her mind along with every thing else from the dream. She mentally shivered at the sight.

"Hey," Jake said, pulling her thoughts of that nasty image. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

Shaking her head, "Look Jake I will tell you but not now." With that said, Sara picked up a file concerning their latest case and tried to throw herself into it. Yet, her concentration wandered off to other things. The tape of her father's confessional, the discovery of the White Bulls, and their involvement in her father's murder. The vision or rather visions from the blade, and of course, Ian. Looking down at the dormant stone, Sara began to rub it. Hoping the blade would give her a hint of Ian's conditions or whereabouts. 

Even the inkling of him being alive would help put her worried nerves at ease for now. Disappointed the blade remained lifeless, cold, and Sara wasn't too surprised from the lack of activity. The damn thing rarely worked when she wanted it to.

 …_You refer the Witchblade as a 'thing'. You continue to do so then it will abandon you…_

She hated to admit, but that Faith woman was right. Though she had passed the Periculum there was so much more mysteries surrounding the Witchblade that had yet to be unlocked. She just needed to fully believe in the blade and tap into those special powers that lie hidden beneath. Sara looked down at the stone once again. Pleading with it to show her Ian. 'Show me,' she ordered yet the blade remained quiet. 'Show me!' She tried again, this time more demanding in her order.

Sara sighed, already feeling disappointed that yet again the blade was not going to show her anything. Unexpectedly the stone grew red and Sara was not prepared for the onslaught of images the Witchblade threw at her. Sara absently curled her hands into fists as she watched the violent montage unfold before her. Once again she was faced with Ian chained up in that room. Nothing but blood covered his body. 

In a flash, Ian was gone, no longer chained up. Yet, someone she has never seen before was in his place. 'Where was Ian?' Her question was answered; there on a bed was Ian. His battered body wrapped up in white bandages. It was obvious that he was being taken care of. The picture then faded into black leaving Sara with another question. Who was taking care of him? Sara gasped sharply as the blade pulled her out of the vision. 

Jake looked up from his paperwork and eyed Sara, "You okay?" 

Sara sat in her chair, still dazed from the vision. Blinking back the haziness, she tried to answer, "Yeah, um, I'm okay." Jake watched speculatively while Sara latently tried to regain her composure. "I guess all this paperwork is just getting to me." 

Jake narrowed his eyes; he was sure that wasn't the case but decided to let it go. "Yeah," he started to stretch in his chair. "Can't blame you. We've been at this for a while."

Sara spied the wall clock and was surprised that she had worked through lunch without even noticing and she was sure the blade took up some of that time thrusting her into that vision. "Shit!" She heard Jake swear. He reached for the phone and started dialing his house number since he had forgotten to take down Tasha's new cell number. "Is that really the time?" he asked. Obviously he too did not notice how much later it had gotten. "Yeah, why? What's the matter?" 

"I had a lunch date with a friend of mine." He said while waiting for the phone to be picked up. "Come on, come on. Be there." Jake started muttering while listening to the continuous ringing. He sighed when the answering machine came on. Jake left a message and hung up. 

"Who's Tasha?" Sara inquired.

"Natasha Marion, she's an old friend of mines. She is staying at my place for a while until she gets situated here. She just moved down here from England." 

"Why is she staying with you?"

"The apartment she was lined up for didn't fall through. So, I offered she stay with me until she gets another place."

"That's nice of you Jake." Sara grinned.

"Yeah, well I can be a nice guy you know," Jake leaned forward resting his arms on the desk, "And I'm also the kind of guy you can trust too."

Sara sighed and threw the pen down. "Jake…"

"Come on Sara let me in." He pleaded.

She leaned back into her chair, studying Jake for a minute. Before she could answer him, someone knocked on their door. "Yeah," Sara called out. The door opened and a uniformed officer stuck his head in. "McCarty, the Captain wants you in his office, now."

"What about Pez?" Jake inquired.

The officer shook his head, "Just you, McCarty." He nodded respectively at Sara, "Detective Pezzini."

Sara smiled and nodded back, "How you doing McGrath?"

"So-so," he answered before leaving. 

"What would Dante want with me?" Jake muttered under his breath.

"Better you them me, rookie." Sara said which was true. Especially now that she knew about the White Bulls and the scumbag's involvement in the murder of her father. 

"Yeah right," Jake said before walking out. 

~*~

Jake walked in, sat down in one of the chairs, and waited to hear what Dante wanted with him. "So tell me, what is it that Pezzini loves most in this world?" Dante asked. Jake leaned back into his chair and answered, "Provocative question. Why do you ask?" 

"Because her temper is her Achilles' heel. And whenever she loses control of it, she makes errors in judgment. So, I was thinking, what if one by one everything that Pezzini loves starts to go away?" Jake nods his head, realizing where he was going with this. He thought about it and said, "Well, she loves that motorcycle she rides."

Dante got up from his seat and made his away around. Leaning on the corner of his desk with his arms crossed. "Keep going. Something more personal." Dante already had something or rather someone in mind. After discovering from Orlinsky that Sara had visited Joe Siri's home, he decided it was time to collect from the old man. 

Outside of the office, Sara uneasily sat in her chair, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. What exactly did Dante want with her rookie partner? Could she really trust Jake? Those two were getting pretty close. Sara stared at the close door of Dante's office. More from habit, Sara started rubbing the stone of the blade. The stone glowed lightly but didn't reel Sara into another vision. 

~*~

In his office, Irons leaned back into the leather seat. He sat there examining his right hand. The hand that bore the mark of the Witchblade. Since that day he tried to wear the blade he was branded with the mark, and was cursed to feel every nuances emitted from it and its wearer. That all changed yesterday. But how was beyond his grasp. 

He studied the surveillance tapes repeatedly, trying to find something that might have occurred between Ian and Sara during those short hours confined together. There was nothing to demonstrate anything happening between them. At least to the naked eye. Yet, Irons knew something had transpired, however he sat there puzzled. What happened in that elevator?

Irons cast the question aside. He did not have time to dwell on such things right now and time was of great eminence for Irons. He could feel his life speeding up, feeling his body changing to accommodate his true age. While studying his hand, he noticed faint liver spots forming on his skin. His time was running out.

He needed the wielder, needed the blood that coursed through her veins. Elizabeth's blood, warned Dr. Immo, was deteriorating, and losing its potency. Therefore, he needs Sara Pezzini. Irons pressed a finger against his pursed lips, and from the corner of his eyes observed the dark figure standing in the corner. 

Nottingham stood impatiently, slowly rocking back and forth on his feet. His eyes wandered around the office, his body tense, and ready to pounce. Irons could hear the leather stretching as Nottingham clenched and unclenched his hands he held behind his back. Immo's worries about this one conveyed to Irons and now the feeling was a constant twinge in the back of his mind. Irons silently sighed, he was not Ian but he will have to do. He had no time to worry about this one. 

Irons turned his attention back to the flat panel screen mounted on the wall. An illustrated DNA strand animatedly displayed on the screen. He took out his pocket watch, staring down at the hand ticking away each second. 

"Ian," he finally spoke. The clone snapped his attention towards Irons. "I want you to relay a message to Sara. I wish for her to dine with me tonight."

"And when she refuses you? What shall I do then?" 

Irons reared his head and speculative eyed his servant. He got up from his chair and slowly walked over to Nottingham. Concealing the stupefied expression beneath a stern mask, Irons spoke. "If," Irons corrected, "She refuse then you are ordered to follow her."

Earnestly tapping the heavy handle of the cane against Nottingham's chest with each word. "Are you competent enough to comprehend such a mundane order as to follow her around?"  Irons spat out.

Nottingham was fully aware that he had upset his master with his presumptuous remark. He had to fight the urge not to smirk at his master's lack of control over his emotions. "I understand," he turned his head and sneered, "Master."

"Go," Irons dismissively waved. He lowered the cane and heavily leaned on it. Was Immo right to worry about this one? Irons wondered as he watch Nottingham's retreating back. Unaware of the sinister grin spread across Nottingham's face, "Finally," he whispered. Here was his chance to meet the wielder of the Witchbalde, Sara Pezzini.

~*~


	61. Chapter Sixty one

A/N: Once again, sorry for the long wait. RL and everything else has been against me as of late. Any way, to make it up, here is a really long update. Enjoy and don't forget to review. =)

~*~

Sara stared vacantly at the case file in front her. Too rapt in thoughts of Ian and the White Bulls, and unaware of what was happening outside of her mind. "Hey, Pez?" Jake called out irritability; the incisive sound of her pen tapping against the top of her desk was clearing getting to him. Sara didn't respond and continued her absent drumming. Having enough, Jake reached across the desk and grabbed Sara's hand. Stopping the annoying sound. The touch pulled Sara out of her trance, "What?" she snapped back.

"Do you mind?" Jake replied, pointing at the pen in her hand. Sara looked down and realized what she must have been doing. "Uh, sorry," she apologized. Jake sat back down eyeing her speculatively. "You okay?" he asked, "You've been sort of out of it for the past hour."  

"Huh?" Looking up bemused, Sara shook her head and added, "I'm fine. I just got a lot on my mind right now." After a few minutes of blankly staring at the file in front of her, Sara decided to give it up for now. "You know what," she said, closing the folder, "I gotta go." 

Jake looked up, "Wha…where are you going?"

She walked over to the coat rack grabbing her leather jacket. While putting it on she answered, "I have someone I need to see."

"Again? Who?" He asked a bit irritably.

"Its none of your business." She replied, snatching up her helmet off the empty chair near her desk. 

"You haven't been acting yourself all morning, spacing out and not hearing a word I've said. This morning you take off without telling me, and now," Jake paused, "Look I think I at least deserve some answers." 

"You're not my keeper, Jake. So back off." Sara snapped back while heading for the door.

Jake threw his pen down on top of his desk, highly frustrated. "Yeah, but I'm your partner, Pez. And partners are supposed to trust each other, remember?" Sara stopped, one hand already on the doorknob, "Cut me some slack, Pez. I'm also your friend." 

Sara sighed, with her back facing him she said over her shoulder, "Alright, Jake. Cafe Enigma, around the corner from my apartment. Eight o'clock tonight."

Jake nodded his head and grinned, "I'll be there, partner." 

"Yeah right," she mumbled and left the office. 

From his office, Dante watched Sara leave. His eyes wandered over to Jake who was standing in the doorway. Jake turned around to head back in his office when he caught Dante staring him at him. He nodded his head in acknowledgement. Dante doing the same. Their earlier conversation running through both their minds. Could he trust, Jake? Was the kid loyal to Bulls or that bitch, Pezzini? Soon enough Dante was going to test him and see if he passed or failed. Jake headed back into the office, shutting the door closed. Dante continued to watch Sara.

She soon turned the corner and disappeared from site. Dante headed back into his office and contemplated on other issues he needed to concentrate on. The information of Sara's visit to Joe Siri's home did not sit well with him. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bullet with the Bull's signature engraving on it. He studied the bullet before placing it in his pocket. "Too bad, Joe." He said aloud.

Sara pushed the door open with her shoulder. Too busy concentrating on putting on her gloves; she didn't notice the black clad figure waiting for her on the sidewalk. As she reached the last step, a glove slipped from her fingers and landed on the ground. She bent to pick it up but someone else had beat her to it. She straightened up and stuck her hand out, ready to retrieve her glove from the stranger. "Thanks," she started but stopped when she looked up. 'Oh my God,' she thought, 'Ian!' The site of him standing before her was a contradiction to the last image she remembered. 

"You're welcome, Detective." Nottingham contemptuously replied, his voice cold and menacing. Lacking the respect his predecessor had for her. From the beginning, Nottingham neither hid nor hinted that he shared in his 'brother's' feelings for the wielder. Yet, now up closer to the wielder, he could understand how both his brother and master would fall for her beauty. He boldly eyed Sara up and down. A sneer forming on his lips, remember what he had seen in the early morning hours during his watch over her. Her supple body thrashing about in her bed. He started caressing her leather glove in his hand as he continued to stare.

An icy sensation coursed through her body, causing her to shiver. The way he was looking at her made her skin crawl. He wasn't the same Ian that she knew. Besides the obvious difference in appearance, his eyes lacked the emotion Ian would have in them. Instead, a feral void, hinted with darken lust, reflected in his eyes. Something was not right. The blade on her wrist did nothing to give her any indication of danger. 

_…You're little toy doesn't seem to work against me…_

Ian had told her that night in the alley. 'Ian,' she thought. Then she recalled a memory. The image of a man, this man, flashed in her mind. This is not Ian Nottingham. At least not the Ian she had been accustomed to since that first day at the museum. Her heart started to race. 

Nottingham's sneer grew wider, revealing in Sara's reaction to his presence. 'Did she know?' He wondered. 

"What he hell are you doing here?" Sara snapped with her incisive tongue hoping to belie the fear. 

Nottingham grinned, 'apparently not,' he thought. "I've come to express my master's wishes for you to join him tonight for dinner."

Sara snorted, she wanted nothing more then to stop by and pay a visit to that bastard but not yet. "Well you can go back and tell your 'master' no."

"So you are refusing." 

"You deaf all of a sudden, Nottingham? Look go back to your master and tell him I said 'fuck you'. Now, be a good boy toy and go back to your master. How's that?" Sara retorted, just wanting this conversation to end and for this _person_ to leave. For the first time she was scared. It appeared that the blade was not going to work against him, and the Ian she knew was missing. Who was going to help her now?

Faith jumped out of the car the moment she spotted the clone. 'Something was not right,' her mind racing with questions. What was her father up to? Why was he permitting this clone, this thing, to make contact with the wielder? Faith stood rooted in place, unsure what to do next. Should she confront him? Too late. The decision was taken from her when Sara appeared from the precinct. 

Faith's body grew tense with apprehension as she watched from a distance the confrontation between Sara and the clone. It looked like everything was going all right. Nonetheless, Faith readied herself, ready to fulfil the duty bestowed upon her as the wielder's temporary protector if needed. There was nothing she could do now. Faith, who stood not far from the two, prayed that the wielder knew the difference. She held her breath, waiting for any insignificant sign to charge in. 

Nottingham laughed at Sara's retort; "I will relay your message to my master." 

"Good, now get the hell away from me." Sara reached forward to snatch her glove from his hand but he was too quick. 

He took her glove and started gliding the leather material against his bare face. He grinned at her, "Do you like my new look," he paused, staring at her with those dark eyes, "Sara?" 

Another cold shiver passed through her body. Concealing the sullied feeling, she felt when he used her name Sara answered, "What's the difference? You still look like your master's bitch. Just less hairy."

Nottingham's grin faded and his expression grew incensed. He had let the 'boy toy' reference slide but not this time, "Looks who's calling me the bitch." He sneered, reaching out to touch her face but Sara slapped his hand aside. Nottingham grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to his body. "Let go," she demanded. 

"Or what? You'll use your magical little bracelet against me?" He used his other hand, the one holding her leather glove, and started caressing her face with it. 

"Detective Pezzini? Everything all right?" Nottingham looked behind Sara to see a uniformed officer standing at the stop of the stairs. He slowly stepped back, then released her captured wrist. Sara tried to slow her racing heartbeat. She looked over her shoulder and saw Officer McGrath standing there. Stifling a sigh of relief she answered, "Yeah, everything is cool."

"Is this gentleman bothering you, Detective?" McGrarth's attention focused on Nottingham. His hand twitching to reach for his sidearm.

Nottingham snorted and waved off the officer's bravado. He looked back at Sara, "Good-bye for now, Sara." He handed Sara back her glove and she snatched it from his hand, hoping that he didn't see it trembling. Nottingham turned around and started walking away. "By the way," he stopped and turned around, "That wouldn't happen to be my ring, would it?" Sara reached up and possessively clutched it in her hand.  

"Believe me this ring  doesn't belong to you. I'm safe keeping it for the real owner."

Nottingham snickered, "Until next time then, wielder." 

"Who was that guy, Detective?" Officer McGrath curiously asked, walking up beside her. "You don't want to know." Sara warned, giving a contemptuous look at Nottingham's retreating form. He turned a corner and disappeared. It was only then Sara felt safe enough to turn her back. "Thanks, McGrath." She clapped him on the back; "I'll see you tomorrow." Sara said before heading towards her bike. 

"So, what was that all about?" 

Sara stopped in her tracks. Here was someone she wasn't expecting to see. "Are you stalking me?" Surprisingly, Sara didn't feel at all threatened by her presence now. Then again, after her encounter with Nottingham, she would have welcomed anyone's company, even Dante.

"To stalk is to pursue quarry or prey stealthily. To walk stiffly or haughtily." She defined. Sara just rolled her eyes, shaking her head. 

"What you're a dictionary now?" Sara sarcastically replied, walking over to her bike, balancing her helmet on top of the gas tank so she could finish placing her other glove on. 

Faith pushed off from the wall and gradually paced closer. Relived that Sara chose not to aim her weapon at her this time, yet her charming attitude was still in full effect. "I have been referred to as an encyclopedia once or twice but never a dictionary." Faith noted.

Sara raised her brows while shaking her head. "You're certifiable," Sara accused. Faith just shrugged it off as if it was nothing new. She had to be a little insane, especially the life she's been leading. A father whose been lusting over a mystical weapon and its wielder. A psychoneurotic pretender for a mother. A brother, who's been physically altered by drug enhancements, and to top things off, has an evil clone wondering the streets of New York. Faith was surprised she still had some of her sanity left. 

Sara continued, "But it still does not explain why you are stalking me."

Faith sighed, "Three things, Detective. One, well, as you can see," Faith empathized spreading her arms out, "I am in no way concealing my presence from you in a stealthy manner." She shrugged her shoulders; "It is not my fault you don't see me when I'm around. Two, now take no offense in this, Detective, but you're not my type of prey." Faith snickered. Sara lifted her brow speculatively. "And three?" she said.

"Three, **I** am not the one stalking you, Wielder." Faith looked over Sara's shoulder, eyeing the spot where the clone stood just moments ago.  

"What did 'he' want?" Faith asked, not mentioning his name. In any case, there was only one Ian Nottingham in this world and it was not the clone.

"Not that it is any of your business but Irons invited me over for dinner."

"And you said no, of course?"

"That and a few other things."

Faith smiled imagining what other colourful words Sara had expressed. "For a cop, you're pretty smart. Though, I will give you some extra advice and I hope you actually take it to heart. Stay far away from those two. Irons is becoming a desperate man, and that 'person' is out of control. A very dangerous duo. So, don't be stupid to think you can take those two on by yourself even with the blade as back up." Faith's smile grew somber, "By the way, what else did 'he' want with you?" Remembering how roughly the clone had handled Sara.

Sara shook her head, unsure, "I don't know what…Nottingham wanted." 

"That thing is **not** Ian Nottingham," Faith informed. She had hoped Sara was able to tell the difference. She narrowed her eyes on Sara, surprised that there were no bombarding questions pertaining to her conviction. But maybe Sara already knew. "And you know it too don't you, Sara?" 

Sara nodded her head remembering the icy chill she felt when she was near him, "Who is he?" she asked, hoping that Faith would give her an answer.

Faith shrugged her shoulders, uncertain of how much she should tell Sara about the clone. "A sick, dangerous, and out of control creation." This was as close she was going to get to the truth.

"Great, just great." Sara muttered under her breath. She started at the top of her helmet, lost in thought. Then finally she aske, "You know where b**he/b** is, don't you?"

"Who are you talking about?" 

"Cut the bullshit. You know exactly who I'm talking about. Where is Ian Nottingham?" 

"Why do you care all of a sudden, huh? From what I've heard, you despise Ian Nottingham." Faith said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sara reaches for the ring, grasping it between her gloved fingers. "I don't hate him," she whispered. Shaking her head, "You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I think I would, Wielder." Faith answered, remembering her earlier conversation with Ian. And the talk she planned to have with Sara about it. But now was neither the time nor the place to make a scene. Especially with the clone watching Sara. At that moment, a black Jag crept out into plain view, and there in the driver's seat was the clone. Apparently, the clone did not know the definition of stalking. He may look like Ian but the clone lacked what Ian had gained over the years, experience. Which was a small advantage.

"Look, please just tell me. Where is Ian?"

Faith grins noting the plea in Sara's voice, "If you really want to find him, Sara. Why don't you use that?" She nods at the Witchblade.

Sara looks down at the dormant blade, "Wha…" but when she looked back up Faith was gone. Typical, she thought. She should have known better then to take her eyes off her. Sara looked back down at the bracelet and asked it to show her Ian. This time it refused to show her anything. "Damn it," she swore before mounting her bike. She revved it up and started speeding towards Gabriel's place. Not far behind the clone and Faith followed in their cars.

~*~

Faith was mildly surprised to have followed Sara to Gabriel's place, it was only a matter of time and she was sure Ian would love the surprise. But her mood quickly changed, alarmed when a familiar black car pulled up just seconds later. "Shit," Faith swore as the clone got out and proceeded to cross the street. Following Sara, who had already disappeared inside, into the building. Faith immediately got out of her car and started making her way towards the back of the building, planning to use the fire escape to gain access into Gabe's apartment. She fished out her cell, hoping to give Gabriel the heads up on some unexpected guests but only got the answering machine. 

As she neared the building, she could actually hear music wafting from the apartment. It was a wonder how Gabriel managed not to go deaf. 'It explained why he did not answer the phone,' she thought while swiftly scaling up the fire escape.

Faith made it to Gabriel's bedroom window and was surprised to see them, let alone in the same room, together, and talking. 'What are they up to?' she wondered. She pushed the thought aside not having the time to contemplate over the issue right now. They had more pressing matters to think about. Sara making unexpected visits with an evil clone hot on her trail. 

Faith picked the lock and slid the window open. "Hello boys," she greeted while climbing through the window. Gabriel jumped up from his seat and Ian eyed her speculatively. 

"Faith, what are you doing climbing through my window?" Gabe pointed at the opened window behind her.

"Oh," she started sarcastically, "I thought this might be faster, Angel." 

Still confused Gabe scratched his head and said, "Okay, why didn't you just use the door like normal people? I hear it's less strenuous." 

Faith grinned, "Nothing like a good climb to get the blood flowing, Angel. Besides where's the fun in walking through the door?" 

"Faith?" Ian finally spoke out having enough of their banter. 

"Because there is a couple of people out there I do not wish to encounter at the moment." She answered.

"And who would that be?" Gabe asked.

"Sara," Ian replied, feeling her presence just outside the apartment. He sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He started to push his battered body off the bed but Faith quickly came around, placing a hand on his shoulder, and halted him from moving further.

Was she really going to deny him this chance to see Sara? Ian looked up at her, begging, "Please Faith I need to see her." Faith looked down at those pleading eyes of his. Before answering, she pointed at Gabriel and said, "Go lower that racket you call music down a decibel or two and greet your guest. And by all means Angel don't let Sara know we are here."

"Yeah sure," Gabe nodded his head, leaving the room.

"Faith," Ian began to protest but she stopped him. 

"Ian, there is another person, besides Sara, I truly do not want to see."

"Who?"

"The clone."

Ian's body tensed up, the color draining from his face. 

"He's here?" Ian whispered.

"Yes, he followed Sara soon after she left the precinct." Purposely leaving out the meeting.

Ian looked at Faith. Something was not right. "What aren't you telling me?"

She sighed, knowing better then to keep things from him. He could read her like an open book, and vice versa. "He confronted Sara prior to her leaving the precinct."

Ian gripped the side of the bed, his fingers digging into the side, and crumpling the sheets beneath them. "What happened?" Ian asked. Faith sighed, there was no way around not telling Ian and so she explained the confrontation. "Did he touch her?" he said through gritted teeth. Seething at the very thought of that 'thing' touching her.

Warning bells chimed loudly in Faith's mind. She knew that voice and recognized the look in his eyes. Faith was sure Ian was seeing red. She did not answer him right away. The wrong words would set him off. Faith reached forward, pried his fingers from the bed, and held his hands between hers. Trying to anchor him down so he wouldn't go sailing through the door like some enraged beast.

Faith took a second too long to answer and Ian already knew. Ian ripped his hands from Faith's and quickly stood up, not bothering to wince as his body cried out in pain from the sudden movement. Luckily, Faith was much quicker and had reached the door first, blocking his path. "Out of my way," Ian growled. Faith was not the least bit intimidated but she was getting frustrated. Ian was not thinking of the bigger picture. "Listen to me Ian!" she held out her arm, her palm firmly pressed against his chest. "You confront the clone now, especially in your condition, not only do you compromise your life but those around you. Gabriel's, mines..." it didn't seem like her words were getting through to him. Not until she said the magic words, "And Sara's as well." The words were like a splash of cold water, quickly bring him him back to his senses. The red he had been seeing faded from his eyes and his vision was getting clearer. 

"Remember Ian this thing was created to be your replacement. This means physically he far exceeds you. He may lack the experience you have but he still shares your skills. What's worst is that this thing, has no conscious, no control, and no fear. And that makes him highly dangerous.

What makes you think you can win against him when you are only half healed? If he manages to get through you, and then me who will be left to protect Sara? Gabriel?" Faith shook her head no. "And we cannot rely on theWitchblade either? Have you forgotten the blade does not work against you. This clone, who was created from your DNA, has a part of you is in him. Do you think the blade will recognize the difference? Are you willing to take that risk? That chance on Sara's life?" Ian lowered his head, his shoulders slumped as her words sank in. 

"I did not think so," Faith said. Ian walked back to the bed and sat down. He felt helpless. Faith sighed and knelt in front of him. She gently grabbed his face between her hands. "I promise, you will meet your lady soon. Just not now." He submissively nodded his head. 

~*~ 

Outside of Tailsmanic, Sara stood waiting for Gabriel to answer the door. From the shadowed corner at the end of the hallway, Nottingham watched. Sara leaned her head closer to the door when she noticed that the music had been lowered. She started pounding on the door again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Gabriel yelled back. Before working on the locks, he looked over his shoulder towards the closed bedroom door. Faith's warning running through his mind. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then opened the door. 

"Hey Chief," Gabe greeted as calmly as he could.

"Damn, Gabe. How do you manage not to go deaf?" Sara joked, making her way pass him. 

"Hey if it's too loud, you're too old," Gabe teased back. Keeping up with the easy banter. He locked the door behind him then followed Sara deeper into the apartment. 

Nottingham stepped away from the corner and walked over to the front door. He leaned his head closer, hoping to hear what was going on inside. All he could make out were muffled voices. Nottingham decided to find other means to watch Sara. From inside the apartment perhaps. Recalling seeing a fire escape behind the building. He walked out and made his way around to the back. He immediately spotting Gabe's opened, bedroom window and started to climb up the metal stairs. 

Suddenly a loud shattering sound echoed through the alley. Nottingham stopped in his trek and turned to survey the origin of the sound. There at the end of the alley was an old man, strings of dirty blonde hair stuck out beneath his cap. His knowing eyes boldly staring at Nottingham. 

Up in the bedroom both Ian and Faith clearly heard the crash. Alarmed, Faith moved over to the window to see what was going on. On the fire escape not far below her was the clone. His attention temporarily diverted to a familiar figure at the end of the alley. 'Definitely have to find a way to thank Lazar.' She thought but said aloud, "Ian, quickly we must hide. The clone is on his way up." Faith informed. Her mind started to race. Just outside the door was Sara, and down below was Nottingham. Gabriel's room was not exactly spacious. Where could they possibly hide?

Nottingham shook his head as if coming out of a short trance. He looked back to where the old man was only to find the spot empty. Confused, he scanned the open alley but there was no sign of him, the man had completely disappeared. After a final sweep of the area, Nottingham returned to climbing up the fire escape. He quietly crawled in. The room was a mess. A large mound of clothes was piled up in a corner of the room, near the closet. The rest were scattered all about the room. To his right was the bathroom, which left only one other door unaccounted for. Nottingham walked across to the door, slightly cracking it open so he could see outside. He immediately spotted Sara and her friend, deep in a conversation. 

After locking the door behind him, Gabe had followed Sara to his desk where she had sat down in one of the chairs. He took the other chair and sat across from her. Without realizing, he started to bite his nails. A bad habit he started whenever he got nervous. Sara noticed it, "You okay?" She asked.

Gabe stopped and dropped his hands onto his lap, "So, um, what's up?" Quickly changing the subject. Sara pushed aside his evasive manner and started to ask, "White Bulls. Ever heard of them?"

Gabe thought about it for a minute then said, "Uh, racist cops? Alabama ... George Wallace?"

"Wrong," Sara replied.

"Albinos in Pamplona?" He guessed again. Though he already had an idea what they were but was puzzled why Sara would start asking him about it. 

"Last chance, Gabriel."

"Why don't you tell me."

"Dirty cops. Right here in New York. I need an overnight education." She said.

He hesitated for a moment. Sara looked at him suspiciously, wondering just how much he knew. Acquiescently he started to say, "All right. I got this one client. A real conspiracy nut. I don't listen to half of what he says, but his checks don't bounce. You know?" Sara nodded her head.  "He hates cops. Collects brutality memorabilia ... ax handles, lynching nooses ... Stacy Koon's Rodney King nightstick. I got five figures for that ..." Gabe added, remembering how much he got during that transaction.

Weary with the irrelevance on what Gabe banked on a certain item, Sara urged him to continue before he went on a different tangent, "OK, Gabriel, fast forward."

Gabe shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing! He ... he's mentioned the name once. I thought it was his usual nutbag B.S."

"Well what did he say?"

"He swears they have this engraved bullet they use to kill people. I have a standing offer for fifty grand if I can deliver a real one."

Sara's body tensed. She reached into her jacket pocket; fingering the bullet, her father had left her. She stared at Gabriel, debating whether she should get him involved. But he was the only person she could truly trust. The blade chose that moment to send her an image of Ian and Faith. Why was it showing her them? She couldn't understand. "You OK?" Gabe asked, snapping Sara out of her trance. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Listen Gabe I need your help."

"Sure, what's up, Chief?"

"This," she pulled the bullet from her pocket, holding it up between her forefinger and thumb, "Is a standard-issue Smith and Weston soft-tip, except for one thing." Turning the bullet around so Gabriel could see the engraving on the round. "Ha…holy," his eyes grew wide as he recognized the symbol for the White Bulls. Sara continued, "Now do you think you can find out who in the city could and would tattoo a bullet this way? More precisely, who did this?"

Gabe took the bullet from her, studying the engraving. "Yeah, sure I'll see what I can do."

"Look do what you can to find the engraver. But be so careful." She stressed.

"Yeah, don't worry." He shook his head, already having a person in mind to ask. 

"No, all I do is worry. I wouldn't even ask you to do something like this, but I'm desperate." 

"You can count on me, Chief." 

She stood up and said, "Thanks, Gabriel." 

"Mmhm," was all he said, still inspecting the bullet. 

He was so caught up in the bullet he did not see Sara heading for his bedroom. "Hey, Gabe. I'm going to use your bathroom then I'm leaving. Gotta meet Jake later tonight."

It took a second before the question registered to his brain. He jumped up and ran across the room, yelling, "NO! Wait!" By then, Sara had already opened the door and walked into the room. Gabe grabbed onto Sara's shoulder, jerking her back, and halting her from moving further. He was surprise to find it empty. "Wha… what is with you?" Sara asked, shrugging off Gabe's hand. 

"Uh," his eyes darted around the room, figuring out where they could be. Until he noticed that, the window was still open. "Well, I, uh," Sara waited for an explanation, "I didn't want you to see my mess." 

Sara rolled her eyes and snorted. She looked down and picked up a piece of clothing off the floor. Quirking an eyebrow she said, "Oh, you mean like these Superman boxers?" she dangled the underwear between her fingers. Gabe turned bright red. He snatched them from her and hid them behind his back. "Exactly," he said. 

"Besides, uh, the toilet is, um, broken." He lied.

"Really?" Sara eyed him speculatively.

Gabe nodded his head, "Yup, broken."

"Huh," was all she said. Something was not right and his behavior had been odd the whole time she was here. She did not quite believe him but did not bother to push it. "Oh, well, I'll just have to wait till I get home." Sara turned to leave when something caught her eye. Moving over to the bed, she leaned down to inspect the sheets. There were a few red spots on the white sheets that, to her, looked like blood. Not knowing why she reached out to finger the ring dangling from the chain. Something was vaguely familiar about this bed but wasn't quite able to pin it down. Sara reached out to touch one of the red marks.

Gabe nervously started biting his nails again. He had to find a way to distract Sara. "Hey Chief?" He called out. Sara stopped and looked up at him, her hand hovering over the bed. "Ah, why don't you give me a lift before you meet up with Jake. Want to get a head start on this engraving research for you." She blinked a few times confused, then remembered about Jake and their meeting. She glanced at the alarm clock, realizing it was getting late. "Yeah, sure." 

Sara tore her eyes and hand from the bed and started scanning the room. She just had this feeling that there was something more other then Gabe's dirty laundry lying about in the room. "So, why are you meeting up with Jake anyway?" Gabe continued with the distraction, "Don't tell me it's a date, Chief. I mean you and McCarty?" He eyed her suspiciously.

That got Sara's attention, "What? No," vehemently shaking her head,  "Its not what you think."

"Then what's the deal?" 

Sara sighed, "I owe Jake an explanation."

"Explanation of what?" Gabe asked. Sara gave him a look. He held up his hand, "Whoa, are you going to tell him about the Witchblade?"

Sara shook her head, "God no, he'll think I'm crazy. But I may tell him about the White Bulls. He is my partner and as of late he has been getting the shit end of the stick because of me. I owe him at least that. Who knows maybe he can help me out."

"I don't know Chief can you trust your partner?"

Sara absently rubbed the stone of the blade hoping it would give her a warning or a clue about Jake. Nothing, again. "I don't know. I'll just have to find out."

"Well just be careful, Chief." Gabe ushered Sara out of the room, grabbing his jacket before closing the door behind him. 

"Yeah, yeah I will. Come on let's get out of here." Sara picked up her gear and they both headed for the front door. 

Faith cautiously crept out of the closet when she heard the front door close. She immediately moved over to the bedroom window and watched as the figure of the clone disappeared rounded the corner. She rushed to the door and stepped out into the front of the apartment. By the time, she reached the window, Sara and Gabe was already speeding down the street, the clone following not far behind. She let out a sigh of relief. 

"Next time I get the closet and you hide underneath Gabriel's clothes." Ian said from the bedroom doorway tossing one of Gabe's undergarments over his shoulder. Faith shook her head, "Thankfully there won't be a next time and I won't have to risk my health hiding under Angel's clothes. I'd rather confront the clone then stick myself under there." She teased.

Ian tensed at the mention of the clone, "What shall we do now?"

Faith raised her eyebrow, "We?" she shook her head. "No, Ian. I will go out. You will stay here, rest, and wait for Gabriel's return." Speaking of her Angel. Just where did he go? Faith looked out the window, an uneasy feeling settled over her. Whatever Sara had asked him to do would somehow compromise his safety somehow or worst his life. She needed to find out as soon as possible. 

"What will you do?" Ian asked as he settled down into a chair. 

Faith thought for a moment. There were a number of possibilities she could do right now. Continue her surveillance over Sara or maybe pay a visit to her father. Perhaps she would do both. She walked over to Ian, "I will do what is needed, brother." Giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And what will you do, Ian?" her eyes narrowing on him.

He sighed, "I will stay here and rest."

"Good," she smiled.

~*~

Bells started to chime as the door to the small antique shop opened. "Hey, hey. Mr. Bankstrom, thanks for staying open. I appreciate it." Gabriel said as he walked in. 

The older gentleman looked up from the watch he hand been working on to greet Gabe, "My doors are always open to an enterprising young man who knows the value of hard work. Your reputation is growing, Mr. Bowman. How may I be of service?"

"Um ... well, recently an engraved item has been offered to me for a very high price.  Now, research indicates that an authentic item of this nature may be worth what they ask.  But, uh, I need to know if it's authentic." 

Mr. Bankstrom laughs, "Mr. Bowman, if you want my opinion, you'll have to be a little more forthcoming. What kind of item?"

Gabe hesitated then finally fished out the bullet and placed it on the counter top. The old man picked it up, pulls down a magnifying glass over his spectacles, and started to inspect it. "Hm, very high level of craftsmanship. A lot of work went into this."

Gabriel observed the old man's reaction to the bullet and wondered, "Your work?"

Bankstrom vehemently shook his head, "I wouldn't dare. This appears to be done after manufacture. Very dangerous." Bankstrom stared up at Gabe from beneath his spectacles, "May I ask who the seller is?" Waving the bullet at him. Gabriel laughed and grinned, "Yes, you may, but unfortunately I won't be able to answer."

The old man nodded his head, "Of course, I understand. Perhaps you'd like to leave it. I can make a few inquiries." "No," Gabe quickly protested, snatching the bullet before Bankstrom had the chance to place it in his pocket, "Listen, uh, please don't mention this to anyone, okay?" Bankstrom nodded his head again. Gabe shook his hand, "Okay, thank you for your time_._ I appreciate it. Take care."

"Goodnight," Bankstrom called out as Gabe exited his shop. As soon as the door closed, Bankstrom walked over to his phone and dialed. "Captain Dante."

~*~

Faith slowed her car down, parking behind a line of cars just a block up from Sara's building. Sara's buell was parked out in front and lights in her apartment were on. Faith got out of her car and walked across the street. She hid herself in the shadows of the dark alley next to Sara's building. Looking up, Faith scanned the rooftops for any signs of the clone. She knew he was here; she had spotted his car immediately after arriving. But where could he be? 

Her eyes roamed the area, searching for him. Just when she was about to move positions she spotted him. Nottingham stepped out from the alley just across the street from her. He stood there, staring in her direction. Faith pressed herself closer to the wall, not knowing if he had seen her or not. There were loud distractions everywhere around the neighborhood but Nottingham's attention never wavered from the alleyway in which Faith hid. 

Faith molded herself into the darkness. Knowing that if she moved just slightly it would reveal her position to the clone. The last thing that she wanted was this creature's attention. A chill ran down her spine as Nottingham flashed his white teeth into an evil sneer. 'Damn it,' she swore to herself. She could see his dark eyes wondering the alley. He didn't know where she was but was very aware she was around. It was apparently that he was not the only one watching Sara.

Faith's heart nearly sank as Nottingham started to cross the street. There was no way in avoiding this confrontation and so Faith prepared herself. That was until a large van drove across his path, temporarily blocking his way. Faith took the opportunity and moved away from the alley. By the time Nottingham had reached where she was, Faith was already gone.  

He vehemently searched the area and when he realized it was empty, he spoke out, "I will find you." Nottingham grinned, his hands curling up into fist. The sound of his leather glove stretching could be heard in the alley. Faith leaned her head back and whispered, "When you do, I'll be ready." She wasn't sure if he had heard her or not, but Nottingham started to laugh. 

The cat and mouse game between Nottingham and Faith stopped when the sound of footsteps were heard. Sara left her building, and started walking down the street, then turned the corner. Nottingham gave the alley one last look before following Sara. Faith waited before following both Sara and Nottingham. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between the dangerous clone. 

While Faith watched, from a distance, as Sara met up with her partner, she thought about the clone. She had practically smelt the power radiating from the untamed beast. Shaking her head, she had to wonder what her father was thinking. To believe that he could control this newer version of Ian Nottingham. Denial. That's what it was. Her father was deep in denial. 

"That he is, Faith." 

For the first time in years, Faith jumped back in surprise. Her arms and hands held up, ready to fight. "Easy, little one. I mean you no harm." Lazar held up his hands. 

"You scared the crap out of me," Faith yelled at him.

"My sorry my dear." Lazar said apologetically.

Faith lowered her arms and composed herself. "So to what honor do I owe this visit from the great Lazar?" she teased.

Lazar smiled, "I am her to relieve you of your duty…for a while."

Faith shook her head, "I can't do that Lazar. I had promised Ian that I would watch over the wielder. Besides there is some crazed evil twin roaming about. Sara would need protection from him. And no offense Lazar," judging from his frail body, "You're no match for him."

Lazar started to laugh, "Do not worry about me, my dear. I can very well manage." He continued to laugh. Faith narrowed her eyes on him. There was much she needed to learn about Lazar. From what Ian had told her, Lazar was a powerful man. But in what way, she was unsure. So, could it be possible that this…person could keep his own against Nottingham?

"Well?" he said after composing himself.

"Well what?"

"Go see him."

"You mean Kenneth Irons?" she asked.

Lazar nodded his head. "Why should I?" Faith asked. 

"Forewarned, forearmed." 

~*~

After hanging up with Bankstrom, Dante called in Orlinsky and Burgess into his office. He sat back in his chair and eyed his two officers. "We have a problem gentlemen."

"What's up?" Orlinsky asked.

"It seems that Petzini's little friend, ah, Gabriel Bowman was asking around about an engraved bullet. This bullet, gentlemen." Dante produced a replica of the bullet and placed it on top of his desk. "It appears the kid is working for that Petzini bitch and is searching from some answers. We all know what she is like. Like some, damn dog with a bone. She is going to pursue and push until she brings down the entire White Bulls organization. I am not going to let that happen. I want you two to pay a visit to this Bowman kid first thing tomorrow morning. Then I want you to eliminate all evidence. I don't want any witnesses, nothing. Anyone that she has come in contact with, I want it taken care of. Understood?" Orlinsky and Burgess nodded their head yes.

"What about Joe Siri?" 

Dante shook his head, "No, I'm going to take care of him personally. I want you guys to concentrate on that Bowman kid and everything else." Dante picked up the bullet and placed it in his pocket. He grabbed his coat off the rack, and all three men exited the office. 

~*~

After arriving back home from his visit with Mr. Bankstrom, Gabe found his apartment empty, with the exception of Ian, who had gone back to bed. Before turning on the computer, Gabe decided to give Faith a call. Before going to bed, Ian had mention that Faith had been worried about him. He'd call; tell her that he was safe and that everything was all right. He picked up the piece of paper she had scribbled the number on and dialed. 

On the third ring someone answered, "Hello?" Gabe sat there confused. This wasn't Faith. "Uh, sorry, must have dialed the wrong number." "No, problem," the woman on the other end said and hung up. Gabe looked at the piece of paper and carefully punched in the corresponding numbers. 

"Hello?" It was the same woman. 

Confused Gabe asked, "Faith?"

"No, I'm sorry but you got the wrong number." She said and hung up again. 

Gabe stared at his phone then at the paper. Instead of making a third attempt he walked into the bedroom and risked waking Ian for Faith's cell number. Ian groggily gave him the number, which happened to be the exact same number Faith had written down. Gabe ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. "Let's try this again," he said and started dialing. 

This time the woman that had been picking up didn't sound too happy, "Look would you stop calling. You got the wrong number." 

"Wait, wait!" He yelled into the phone, before she got a chance to hang up again. 

"What?"

"Listem I'm calling for a woman named Faith." Gabe asked.

"Sorry but like I said earlier there is no one by that…" The woman trailed off then paused, "Wait a minute. Does this Faith person look like…." She started describing and Gabe said, "Yeah that's her."

"Oh my God. I think we somehow managed to switch phones."

"How did that happen?" 

"My name is Natasha Marion. I was one of the attendants working on the flight she was on. While at the airport terminal we accidentally bumped into each other. We dropped our phones and a friend of mines picked them up. He must have unknowingly given us the wrong phones." 

'Just great,' Gabe thought. "Uh, would it be possible for you to stop by, drop off the phone?" 

"Well I can't make it tonight but I'll be free tomorrow morning. Can I stop by and pick up my phone then?" Natasha asked.

Gabe ran his hand through his hair, "Yeah, sure. My place is at 111 Foster Street, apartment 11. I'll be here, the name is Gabriel."

"Alright, Gabriel. I'll be over first thing tomorrow morning." 

~*~

Jake leaned back in his chair and started to say, "Diogenes was a Greek philosopher who walked around Athens with a lantern in broad daylight. Said he was looking for an honest man." 

"You looked it up." Sara said incredulously. 

He nodded his head, "I did, but it didn't say whether he ever found one."

"Uh, some accounts say only when he looked in a mirror." She added not really interested in the subject. 

Jake on the other hand continued, "Meaning, if you want to find an honest man, be one."

Sara shrugged a little, "That's the way my dad read it." She leaned forward, lowering her voice, "Jake, I ... I gotta tell you something." 

"Hey, if this is about mixing partnership with our personal lives," he started to protest, "It's… all right." 

Sara shook her head, the thought not even crossed her mind, "No, no, no. Nothing like that. We have a problem in our department, a big problem. There's a, uh, force within the force. A bunch of bad cops. They call themselves the White Bulls. They've been around a long time. And, uh ... they actually killed my dad."

"What?"

"Yeah, he was on to them. They mask as these righteous crusaders, but what they're really about is corruption, bribes, protection, the works. This McQueen murder feels like their handiwork. And one of their leaders ..."

Jake held up his hand, stopping her, "Let me guess, Captain Dante."

Sara nodded her head, eyeing him a bit suspiciously. His 'guess' was dead on. Sara had to wonder about his earlier meeting with Dante. 

Jake avoided her eyes and mumbled; "I knew there was something wrong there. So, what do we do? Go I.A? Outside agency? FBI?"

Sara shook her head, "I'm not sure."

"What kind of evidence do you have?"

"Word of a witness, articles, reports.  I even have a videotape my dad left me with specific time-date incidences." She started listing off. 

"Yeah, but your dad's been dead for years, Sara. Those crimes must be pretty old."

"There's no statute on murder, Jake."

Jake stared curiously then asked, "Who's your witness?"

Sara held up her hand, he knew better then to ask. She may have told Jake about the White Bulls but she still had her doubts about how much she could trust him. As if reading her mind, Jake said, "Okay, you'll tell me when you're ready_. _Meanwhile, can I see the video?" Sara was rather reluctant, but she could see no harm in showing him the tape. In the end, she agreed. "You know our best bet might be the media. Get it all public.  Make it harder for them to move against us." He suggested.

"I thought of that too."

"So who do we go to for help?" Jake wondered. 

~*~

Dozens of lit candles set atop tall, ornate candelabras and the hissing fire burning in the large hearth were the only source of light in the desolate room. The double doors suddenly opened, and the flames on the candles flickered, struggling to stay lit as a small draft of wind drifted through the room. A repetitious tapping sound echoed throughout the room every time the bottom of the cane encountered the solid floor. The tapping stopped when Irons made his way to the leather chair. He stands the cane against the arm of the chair, then moved around to sit down. After letting out a wearisome sigh, Irons composed himself and concentrated on the chessboard in front of him. 

He leaned back into the chair; legs crossed, and fingers interlaced together. Staring down at the board pondering over his next move. Irons sat there for what seemed like hours until finally he made a move. Just another hapless pawn captured by his knight. He set the captured piece aside. Irons returned to his deliberation, unaware of the second presence in the room. 

The shadow separated itself from the wall, sailing across the room on silent footsteps. Before Irons realized what was happening, agile fingers reached across the chessboard. Grabbing the opposing bishop, and capturing Irons knight. "Check." Irons followed with his eyes as the person sat down across from him. "Hello my dear," he smoothly greeted, hoping his voice belied the apprehension he felt. 

Faith nodded her reply. She sat back into the plush leather chair, legs crossed, her fingers still toying with the ivory chess piece, and familiar azure eyes transfixed on the man across from her. "If I had known you were coming I would have made the necessary arrangements to… greet you properly, my dear."

She waved her hand, "I wouldn't want you to go through so much trouble just for me."

"It would have been no trouble at all. It is not everyday I get to see my only daughter…"

"Alive?" She coolly added, yet her eyes were blazing with anger.

"As delighted as I am seeing you again, my dear. What do I owe for this fortuitous visit?" 

Faith slammed the chess piece down so hard onto the table; it rattled the rest of the pieces, some nearly tipping over. "My presence here goes far beyond a 'frotuitous visit'. You're a smart man, you've already figured out why I'm here." She fingered the piece, a clear sign that one of the reasons why she was here was because of Ian. But there was more to her return. 

Irons pressed his forefinger against his pursed lips. The corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. "So you have risen from the grave to seek revenge on your father. Rather cliché don't you think my dear?" 

"Perhaps, yet it all depends on how you look at it. For one thing, to rise from the grave one would need to be dead. As you can see," she spread her arms out, "I am very much alive. Not some zombie or ghost. And secondly, how does one seek vengeance on a person I no longer consider my father?" Faith didn't bother to hide the animosity in her voice.

"My dear sweet, Faith. You wound me." Placing a hand over his heart.

"If only," she added with a smile.

Irons smirked at her remark, "touché." She grinned, tipping her head slightly forward. "I believe it is your move," Faith pointed at the chessboard. Irons ponder over his pieces, and the list of possible moves running through him mind. "What's wrong? Can't seem to calculate your way out," she paused then spat out, "Father?"

"If you stopped being the impudent child that you are, you will learn that there are many ways to win." Irons admonished, as he captured her bishop with his knight. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, father." She shook her head; teasing him, "Do not revert to name calling. Such mockery is for children. It is definitely not suitable for someone so advance in age. And believe me I've learned a great deal over the years." Faith stared at the board no more then two seconds and was already making her next move. Irons was seething, chiding himself for not realizing he had unknowingly placed his chess piece in danger. He watched her capture his last knight. "You're turn," she yelled.

"I am not deaf, Faith. I am perfectly capable of hearing just fine." Irons pursed his lips and concentrated on the board. He was getting rather annoyed from her continuous mockery. She always had a way of getting under his skin. And she loved every minute of it. 

"My apologizes. You see from what I have heard, the hearing tends to be the first thing that goes when one gets older. And I must say how the years seem to be taking its toll on you." He narrowed his frigid eyes on her, his hand tightening around the handle of the cane. Most people would have frozen under his stare, but not Faith. She smiled innocently, unperturbed by the look Irons was giving her. Irons swore under his breath. "So tell me, just how do you plan on winning against time old man?"

Irons grinned, "Check," he said after his move.  

"Let me guess," She started, picking up the queen and holding it in her hand. 

"As I recall, there is a great test called the Periculum. If the wielder manages to pass this test, the Witchblade not only bonds with the wielder it also bestows upon the chosen woman with special…gifts. Genetically altering her body." 

"Is there a point to your rambling?" he asked.

Faith smiled, shaking her head. "For nearly three decades you have feasted on Elizabeth Bronte's body like some scavenger. Using her blood to maintain your youth. Now, with Sara as the new wielder, your well has become obsolete, dried up in fact. So you're seeking a new well, a new fountain of youth that spews red. Am I right, father?"

Irons shook his head, "If you already knew of my plans. Why did you come here?"

She shrugged, "Confirmation I suppose. Yet, that isn't the only reason why I came here tonight. It's the means of how you would obtain these gifts. This thing, this creation you've let loose out on society."

"Ah, you mean Ian?" 

"That freak is not Ian!" Faith stood up from her seat, pacing back and forth. "You know, father, I've always admired your intelligence. Only a truly smart man could survive the way you have. But," shaking her head, "I can see that your lust for control has clouded your judgment."

"What are you implying my dear?"

"I guess sight is the next thing to go when you get older. Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" Faith flipped him her middle finger. Irons stared daggers at her. "You're delusional to think that you have any control over this clone of yours, to think that you will win."

"In the end, I always do my dear. Always." He retorted.

"Perhaps, but not this time around. By the way," she walked over to the table and placed the chess piece down into the appropriate space, "Checkmate." She declared before tipping the king over.  

"We shall see my dear daughter." Irons said aloud, watching her retreating back. He looked down at the board, upset that he had lost the game. He ran the cane across the table, knocking the chess pieces everywhere, all except one, the ivory queen. Absently, Irons started rubbing the back of his right hand. Faith's mockery of his appearance ran through his mind along with his earlier conversation with Dr. Immo.

"Her cells may be degenerating, unraveling."

"That's why we're using a larger piece this time." He had said.

"You may be developing a tolerance, an immunity to her."

Irons shook his head. His own fountain of youth had dried up, lost its potency, and now he needed fresh blood. He needed Sara Pezzini's blood. Irons stared into the flames. Finally, coming to a decision, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Yes, master?"

~*~

"Tell your sister I said hello. I love you too, Marie. Bye." Joe said before hanging up. He wiped the tear from his eye, and walked over to his chair. Just as he unscrewed the cap off the bottle, he heard a noise in the background. With a heavy sigh, Joe started pouring himself a glass of his favorite whiskey. He sat patiently, casually sipping his drink. 

"What took you so long?" Joe looked up at Dante. His old revolver held in Dante's hand.

"You finally grew some stones, huh, Joe?" Dante teased.

"Yeah. Feels pretty damn good, too." Joe took another swig of his drink. 

"What? Telling a girl her dad's a hero instead of telling her the truth?" There was no hiding the distaste in Dante's voice. 

"That is the truth. Jim was a hero." He poured the rest of the whiskey into his glass. 

"And you're a schmuck. All you did was sign Sara's death warrant." Dante warned, his mouth smacking away on his gum. "Not to mention my own," Joe added, raising his glass. Dante gave him a nod, considerately letting the man finish his last drink. After three large gulps, the glass was empty. Joe set the glass down and waited for the inevitable but not before saying, "You're right, Bruno. I did sign two death warrants tonight, but they weren't mine and Sara's. They were mine and yours." 

Dante snorted, shaking his head. "Whatever, Joe. By the way, I found this in your room.  You don't mind if I use it, do you?" Dante placed the bullet in the chamber and closed it.  Joe spread his arms out, a 'be my guest' expression on his face. 

~*~

Sara and Jake exited the café and started for her apartment just a few blocks away. Not far behind Nottingham followed. An ominous grin spreading across his face as he listens to his master over the phone. His orders were specific, retrieve the wielder and return to the mansion. "I want her alive, but use what ever means necessary." Irons ordered before hanging up. Nottingham's grin grew wider. He shoved the phone into his coat pocket, quickening his pace to keep up with Sara and Jake. Both unaware of his presence. 

"You ever notice how people who say, "Everyone in the world is dishonest" are usually dishonest themselves?" Sara openly stated, while walking down the alley near her apartment building. 

"And folks who think people are basically honest tend to be honest?" Jake added. 

Sara grinned, "Yeah, exactly." The easy camaraderie quickly faded when Sara spotted her buell or rather what was left of her precious bike. She crouched besides the heap of metal, speechless and shock that someone had purposely destroyed her buell. Jake shook his head. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "This was no accident, Sara."

Sara knew it wasn't a random act, she was even certain the White Bulls were responsible. Jake on the other hand knew that it was. Just hours ago Dante had asked him what he thought Sara loved the most. He responded by saying that she loved her bike. This was Dante's plans. To take away everything she loves, hoping to push her over the edge, forcing her to make a mistake, and Dante was going to be there when she did. From the looks of things it was working. Sara's shoulders were trembling, trying hard not to cry. Jake pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. 

Nottingham smirked, recalling a black SUV repeatedly running over Sara's bike. Then the burly driver stepped out of the vehicle, walked over to the trashed bike, and pissed on it. A satisfied smile plastered on the man's face.  

Jake ushered Sara into the building, guiding her to her apartment. Jake took the keys from Sara's shaking hand and unlocked the door. Nottingham hurried up the fire escape. By the time he reached her apartment window, Sara and Jake were already in the living room. Jake watched Sara pace back and forth. "You okay?" Sara shook her head, not bothering to say anything. 

Jake ran a hand through his hair, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. Pack what you need for a couple of days because you're staying on my couch until further notice."

Sara's head shot up, "What?"

"We'll stick together." 

"Jake, if they want to get me…"

"They'll have to get the both of us."

Sara thought for a moment then said, "How can I say no to that?" she smiled. 

Nottingham pursed his lips into a tight line, his brows furrowed in frustration as he listened. The situation had just gotten complicated. If he was going to fulfil his duty he needed to act now, regardless of the little obstacle that stood in his way. His only order was to return with the wielder. The other detective was obsolete. Nottingham unlocked the window and quietly crawled in. 

Sara pulled out her backpack and started stuffing it with clothes and anything else she would need for the next few days. Sara zipped up the bag and tossed it on the bed. "You got everything you need?" Jake asked. "Yeah, I think so." She looked around her bedroom, making sure she didn't forget anything. "Give me a minute, I have to use the bathroom." Jake nodded, grabbing her bag, and waited in the living room. 

Nottingham silent maneuvered around the apartment. His eyes locked on Jake sitting on the couch. Nottingham neared closer coming up from behind. He pulled out his digger from his coat, holding the hilt tightly in his hand. Nottingham grinned, thinking that soon the gleaming blade would be tainted with the detective's blood. And just when he was about to reach out to slit Jake's throat, a crash was heard. 

Jake quickly got up from the couch and rushed across the room over to the bathroom door. He knocked once, "Hey you okay in there?"

"Yeah, I accidentally knocked over my glass cup. Shit," Sara swore aloud.

"What's the matter?" Concerned Jake reached for the knob. 

"Nothing, tell you what Jake. Why don't you take my stuff to your car. I'll be down in a minute." Sara suggested.

"I don't think that's a good idea. We should stick together."

"Rookie, what's going to happen, huh?" She snorted, "Go on I'll be down in a few."

"All right, but if you're not down in five minutes, I'm coming back up." 

"Yeah, yeah," Sara answered. 

Reluctantly Jake moved away from the door. He grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs. After hearing the door close, Nottingham stepped out from the corner. Thinking how lucky Jake was. Now, with Jake gone, getting to Sara would be much easier. 

Sara swore again, looking down at her injured hand. While picking up the pieces of broken glass, she had managed to cut her hand. Thankfully, it wasn't a very deep cut but her wound was still bleeding profusely. She grabbed a small washcloth and wrapped it around her hand, making a temporary bandage. "Where the hell is the first aid kit?" she wondered while rummaging through her medicine cabinet. 

That was when she rememberd she had moved it over to the kitchen. Sara carefully walked around the mess, promising to clean it up after she tended to her wound. She opened the door and was alarmed to find all the lights in the apartment were turned off. "Jake?" she called out but there was no answer. She looked down at the blade which remined quiet.

Cautiously, Sara walked around the apartment, searching for a lamp to turn on. Just as she was about to reach for the switch, a steely hand grabbed her wrist. Nottingham whirled her around, so that her back was pressed against him, her left arm trapped between their bodies. "Good evening, Sa-ra," Nottingham whispered into her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on ends. A frigid chill ran down her spine, and her heart started racing. A low ominous laugh escaped Nottingham's lips. Enjoying the feel of her body against his and the fear emitting from her. 

Sara started to struggle, unmindful of the pain that was shooting up the arm he held behind her back. He tightens his hold and Sara hissed in pain. She started kicking his shins, eliciting a groan from his lips, but he didn't relinquish his hold. "Don't do that again." He ordered his voice tight and irritated.

"Or what?" She angrily retorted, belying the fear she was feeling. Already knowing what he'd do to her if she didn't stop. 

"If you don't," Sara froze when she felt a solid object gliding up, over her body. "You'll push me to use some unnecessary force." He said, the edge of the knife veering around her breast. His hand purposely brushing against the mound. "What the hell do you want?" Sara hissed through gritted teeth. She held her breath when she felt the cool metal brush against her neck. 

"My master wants a little taste." 

"What…" Sara's voice trailed off, grimacing when she felt his tongue run up the side of her face. And purposely nicking the side of her neck with the tip of the blade, a small trickle of blood flowed down her neck. "Flesh and blood, Sara."

Sara panicked, her breathing becoming harder, heart racing even faster. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the blade. Willing it to help her. Nothing. Nottingham chuckled, "Haven't you learned, your toy won't work against me." 

"But mines will," a female voice spoke out.

Sara and Nottingham both looked up to see where the voice was coming from. Their eyes wandered over to the silhouette near the window. All they could see was the gleam of a blade winking back at them. Nottingham pulled Sara closer, the blade pressed so dangerously close to her neck, that Sara was sure if she swallowed she'd accidentally cut herself. 

"Who are you?" Nottingham demanded. Yet, knew that this was the other person who had been watching over Sara.

In hopes that she can help Sara, Faith cautiously moved around the apartment, calculating where she should position herself, making sure to keep to the shadow. From what she could assess using force was out of the question. There was no doubt Sara was going to get hurt, or worst killed. And there was still the uncertainty of how skillful this clone really was. Faith had to think of another way to get to the clone. At least find a way to distract him long enough for Sara to escape. Everything after that would be a free for all. 

But what could she do? She couldn't exactly negotiate with the man. He has no moral conscious, no control…and that's when it hit her. When one loses control, they tend to make mistakes. Faith stared at the clone. The man radiated with over confidence, and cockiness. Perhaps a few hints on the man's ego might do the trick. Might. 

"It's me, Faith. I'm insulted you don't remember, Ian." Faith started, feigning disappointment. 

"I don't know you," Nottingham replied.

"Yes, you do Ian. No, wait a minute, hmm," she paused, her finger tapping against her chin, pretending to contemplate. "Ah," she finally said, "I can see why you wouldn't remember."

"Please do explain," he asked. Even Sara was curious where this was going. 

"How can someone recall a memory when one does not possess any to begin with?"

"Meaning?"

"You're NOT Ian."

"I am Ian Nottingham!" The clone declared through gritted teeth. 

Faith grinned, shaking her head, "No you're not." Her voice calm and leveled. "You may walk around, looking like him, sounding like him, even using his name, but never will you be him. Let's face it, you will always be the second rate freak that you are. Irons may call you the 'successor' but in less terms it just means you're the alternative, the substitute." 

Nottingham sneered. Sara could feel Nottingham's body tense up behind her. She could hear the leather stretch as he tighten his hands. A thin red line formed as the edge of the blade dug into the side of Sara's neck. 

"Come on, doppleganger, let's see what you got, huh?" Faith coaxing him on with her middle finger. "Because honestly, you ain't shit just some pretender." Faith started to laugh.

"Nothing would please me more then to release you from your earthly bonds." He said dreamily. Faith swore inwardly, the taunts didn't look like it was helping. Only getting the man more pissed off. Damn it now what?

At that moment, the ring around Sara's neck glowed. Then suddenly the sound of metal clicking together echoed in the apartment. The Witchblade had come alive. Without a second thought, Sara reached up, wrenching the blade from Nottingham's hands. For a brief moment, Nottingham was caught off guard. His hold on Sara loosened. Everything was happening so fast, and luckily, Faith was quick enough to react before Nottingham could.

She rushed towards them, reaching out to grab Sara's arm. While pulling her away from Nottingham, Faith delivered a roundhouse kick to his face, the blow sent him staggering backwards. Faith pushed Sara behind her, placing herself between the two.

Nottingham looked up at Faith, the right side of his face covered in blood. Nottingham felt a painful sensation, reaching up he traced the long slash with his gloved fingertips. Pulling back, he stared down at his blood-coated glove. His angry and confused eyes darted towards the curved blade sticking out from the tip of Faith's boot. 

"Fucking bitch, you'll pay for that." He venomously threatens. 

Faith only grinned; readying herself for a fight she knew was coming. Nottingham took a step forward before the front door burst opened, "Sara!" Jake yelled out, hurriedly running up the stairs. Nottingham and Faith stared at each other. "Until next time, Faith." Nottingham was about to run out when he spotted the blood soaked towel on the floor. He picked it up and ran, crashing through the window. Faith and Sara rushed over to look out the window. Gone.

Faith turned to Sara, pointing the blade she still held in her hand at her, "What the hell was on that cloth?"

Undisturbed by the sharp object pointed at her, Sara showed Faith her injured hand and said, "My blood." 

"Shit!" 

"What's wrong?" Sara asked but before Faith could answer, Jake showed up, gun drawn and aimed at Faith. 

"Sara look out!" Jake yelled and without hesitation fired at Faith. Sara ducked for cover. She watched in horror as Faith fell through the open window. After scrambling to her feet, Sara rushed out the window and quickly descended the fire escape. Jake following behind.

Sara ran towards the area where Faith would have landed, surprised to find it empty, no body, nothing. "Where did she go?" Jake wondered, looking up and down the alley. 

"Uh," Sara shook her head, running a ran through her hair, "I don't know." 

"You okay?" Jake asked, putting away his gun. 

"I'm fine," she said then rounded on him, "Just what the hell were you thinking, rookie?"

Dumbfounded Jake started, "That's the welcome I get after saving your life? Sara, the woman had a knife on you what was I supposed to do?"

Sara thought for a moment, trying to picture what Jake saw when he busted into her apartment. She really couldn't blame him but still. "She wasn't going to hurt me, Jake."

"Yeah, and how do you know that?" 

"She saved my life, Jake."

"What?"

Sara gave Jake a rough explanation about what happened omitting some parts. She could only hope that it was enough to satiate his curiosity. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Someone in the building must have heard the gun shots and called the police. "Just fucking great," Sara swore. She had a feeling Dante was going to have a field day with this. 

"Listen Jake story is someone broke into my apartment. We didn't get a good look at the person because it was too dark and the perp managed to get away. Got that?"

"Wha…" Jake started shaking his head, "That's bullshit, this was no break in, Sara. Nottingham came into your apartment intent on killing you. And you want me to just lie about that? What are you hiding, huh?" Staring at her as if she'd lost her mind.

Frustrated Sara snapped, "Just do it, rookie!"

Jake pursed his lips together, "Fine!" Irritably he walked off, heading towards the front of the building, waiting for the police to arrive. Sara sighed as she watches Jake walk away. Before following, Sara moved over to inspect the area were Faith would have been. There was no evidence that anything landed here besides the glass shards from her window. She shrugged her shoulders and walked away. Just as she was about to turn the corner, the blade hissed on her wrist. A long red smear marked the wall. 'Faith,' she thought.

~*~

Nottingham stood in front of Irons, the saturated washcloth held delicately in his gloved hands, and his unattended wound seeping blood down his face. Irons got up from his chair and moved closer to Nottingham. He looked down between the cloth and the cut on his servant's face. "Explain yourself," Irons demanded. Once again, Nottingham became angry as he recalled the confrontation earlier. 

"So this," Irons motioned to the soiled fabric, "Is Sara Pezzini's blood." Nottingham nodded his head yes. "And this," tapping the side of Nottingham's face none so gently with the handle of his cane, "Is a gift from Faith?" 

Nottingham growled, "Yes."

"Pathetic," Irons whispered before stepping away. Nottingham sneered, staring daggers at Irons' back. "Immo," he bellowed and immediately the doctor appeared in the room. Irons sat back down in his chair. He stared up at Nottingham, "You failed to bring me Sara Pezzini, but thankfully all is not lost." Irons turned his head towards the doctor, "If you'd be so kind, Dr. Immo to extract the blood from that wash cloth and prepare my little hors d'ouervre. Then we shall see if our little experiment works, hm." Immo nodded his head. He motioned Nottingham to place the cloth on top of the silver tray. 

Before getting to work, Immo inquired about Nottingham and the wound on his face. Irons contemplated for a moment. Purposely taking his time, letting his servant wait. After a few minutes, Irons waved his hand, "You'll tend to him when you are done taking care of my needs."

"Very well, Kenneth." Immo spared a worried glance at the clone before starting on his work. 'Careful, Kenneth,' Immo thought, after seeing the disdain suspended in the clone's dark eyes.

~*~


	62. Chapter Sixty two

~*~ 

After unlocking the door, Jake ushered Sara into his apartment. He placed her bag near the couch, and disappeared into his bedroom. "Jake, I really do appreciate this." Sara called out. He returned to the living room with a pillow and a blanket for her. "It's no problem, Pez. We're partners, I got your back and you got mines. And," he started while spreading out the blanket onto the couch, "Due to recent events, I feel even better that you're here." Sara only grinned, not wanting to talk about what happened at her apartment. 

It took almost an hour to settle the situation at her apartment. News had traveled fast because in a matter of moments, Dante had arrived on the scene. Constantly questioning about what happened. Sara could tell that Dante wasn't quite buying the B&E scenario both she and Jake described but they were going to stick by it. There was even a point where Dante had tried to blame the incident on Sara. But like always, Jake played mediator, coming to his partner's rescue. 

"Things went down like we said it did. Perp broke in, but it was too dark we couldn't see his face. I got a few shots out before he managed to escape." Sara stood quiet the whole time, but her eyes were narrowed on Dante. 

"It's a good thing McCarty was here with you. Who knows what might have happened to you, Petzini."

Sara's brow rose at Dante's veiled threat, "Yeah, lucky me." Sara retorted.

"You better be more careful there, Petzini. Or else your luck just might run out." Dante added with a smirk on his face. 'Smug bastard,' Sara thought as she watched him leave.

"Jake? Is that you?" A female voice called out from his bedroom.

Jake turned around and ran into the room. He greeted the woman just coming out from the bathroom. "Hey there," he wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Come on I want to introduce you to my partner." He said, guiding her back to the living room and explaining that Sara was going to be staying for awhile. Sara dropped her stuff onto the couch when she heard footsteps enter the living room. 

"Hey Pez, I want you to meet my friend, Natasha Marion." Jake started. Sara turned around and was shock to see the resemblance. The face, hair, eyes, everything about her screamed Nottingham. Jake was oblivious to Sara's disbelieving expression and finished the introductions, "This is my partner, Detective Sara Pezzini."

Tasha on the other hand could not dismiss the speculative stare. She stuck her hand out and said, "It's, uh, nice to meet you, Detective Pezzini."

It took Sara a moment before she realized that she was only starting. "Ah, I'm sorry," Sara shook her head slightly to recompose herself, "I didn't mean to stare. You just remind me…"

"Of someone," Tasha nodded her head, "Yeah been getting that lately. You're the second person that has said that to me actually. Don't worry about it." She smiled, waving away the awkward moment. 

"Well, its nice to meet you Natasha. You can call me Sara if you want." 

Tasha smiled, "Okay. So, Jake tells me that you'll be staying here for a while?"

Sara nodded her head, "Yeah, but it's just for a couple of days. Sorry for the inconvenience." 

Tasha shook her head vehemently, "Don't worry about it. Besides, it will give me a chance to make some new friends."

"I've heard from Jake that you've just recently moved from England."

Jake happily watched, as both women seemed to be getting along with each other. He excused himself, saying that he was going to take shower. Sara and Natasha sat down on the couch, talking about each other. Both seemed to enjoy the other's company. Natasha leaned back against the arm of the couch, finishing up her explanation on her decision to move to New York. 

"What about your parents? Do you have any sisters or …brothers?" Sara was curious, especially about having any brothers. She couldn't quite pass the overwhelming resemblance between Natasha and Ian. Then again, it could all be just a coincidence.

Natasha hung her head. It was painful for her to relive her past, but she was surprised how easy it felt to tell this complete stranger about herself. "My parents are dead. My mother passed away a couple of years ago, and my father died in a car crash when I was only two. Technically I'm an only child."

Sara's brows rose up suspiciously, "Technically?" 

Natasha bit her lip and looked over her shoulder, over to the bedroom. She could still hear the shower running. She turned back and leaned forward, "Promise me you won't tell Jake?" Sara nodded her head.

"I've been telling people that I'm an only child only because that's what I've been thought to say. The truth is I had an older brother."

"What happened?"

"He died in the car accident along with my father. My mother didn't like talking about him much, it brought up too many painful memories. I tried asking my grandmother Celeste, about him but she has a hard time talking about it too. So, I just let it go. It's not like I can bring him back anyway." 

Sara reached over to give Natasha's hand a reassuring squeeze, "I'm so sorry." Natasha waved it away, not bothering to hide the tear trickling down her face. "It's okay. It was a long time ago. I mean I barely remember him but even at two years old I knew I loved him." She laughed while she wiped away her tears, "I don't even know why I told you that. You're like the only person I've told this to."

Sara smiled, "Sometimes talking to a complete stranger kind of helps, I guess. I appreciate it you telling me and don't worry I won't tell anyone."

Natasha nodded her head, "Thanks." 

There was a moment of silence before Sara asked, "So, your grandmother Celeste. Is she?"

Natasha beamed, "Oh she's very much alive. She's my only living relative."

"Does she live in England?"

"Yes, she does."

The gears in Sara's mind started turning. Memories from her dreams resurfaced but before she had a chance to ask more questions Jake reappeared. "Hey, Pez. The shower is free if you want to use it."

Natasha looked over to the clock on the wall, "Oh my, it's getting late. I better get to bed and let you go. I'm sure you're tired and just want to get some sleep. It was nice chatting with you, Sara." She slowly stood up from the couch. 

"It was nice talking to you too, Natasha."

"Good-night, see you in the morning." Natasha said and disappeared into the spare bedroom, Jake in tow.

Sara gathered her things and headed for the bathroom. While taking a quick shower, Sara could not help but wonder about Natasha's grandmother, Celeste. Could she be the same woman she had seen in her dream? But how could it be. Natasha's last name was Marion not Nottingham. Then again, she could be taking up her mother's maiden name. Then there was the unfortunate death of her parents and older brother. Therefore, Ian couldn't really be Natasha's brother. Sara had so many questions but no answers. 'No surprise there,' she thought.

Sara pushed the questions aside for the time being. She only had enough information to speculate. And the fact that she knew next to nothing about Ian didn't help her much. Sara leaned her body against the tiled wall, the hot spray pounding against her body. She stood there thinking about Ian. 

_…If you really want to find him, Sara. Use the Witchblade…_

She didn't know how long she stood there, but the water had gone cold. Sara turned off the shower and dried herself off with a large towel. After changing into her pajamas, Sara headed back to the living room. She slipped under the blanket and lie down. She didn't sleep right away, the words, 'Use the Witchblade,' constantly ran through her mind. The stone of the blade did nothing but sit quietly on her wrist. After a disappointed sigh, Sara closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep. 

Sara tossed and turned, her sleep once again being plagued with visions brought upon by the Witchblade. Sara approached the door and tested the knob. She looked down at the blade for any indication of danger. It glowed a soft hue, urging her to open the door. Finally, she did and in the room, she was surprised to find Ian in bed. 

She ran to his side, gently sitting down at the edge of the bed. "Ian," softly calling out his name. "Ian, it's Sara." She tried again, when he didn't stir from his sleep. Panic quickly engulfed her senses. It was only then did she realize the bruises and cuts that covered his body. "Oh God, Ian. I'm so sorry," she started crying. Her tears silently running down her face, falling on top of his bruised torso. Gently with her right hand, she started to trace over his wounds. First, the large gash over his right eyebrow.

Sara gasped as she passed over the wound, and in its wake, the wound had completely healed. Not even a scar was visible. She tried again, this time passing over a bruise on his face. It disappeared. She continued down his body, a sharp gasp escaped from his lips as her hand ran over his chest, down over his broken ribs. 

Sara was so absorbed with healing Ian; she didn't see him open his eyes. He raised his hand to cup Sara's cheek, pulling her out of her concentration. She jumped at his touch but did not pull away. No words were said between the two. She smiled through her tears, Ian doing the same. She pushed aside the loose strands covering his face, and then caressed his cheek. Ian closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. His lips brushed over the inside of her palm.

"Sara," he whispered against her hand. He opened his eyes and reached out to capture her face between his hands. He did nothing but caress her face, not once urging her to do something she was not ready for. Ian was surprised when she moved her hand to lightly rest on his chest, and she slowly leaned down. He watched as her eyes darted between his lips and his eyes. "Sara?" Ian asked, unsure if this is what she really wanted.

"Yes," she said, answering Ian's unspoken question just before she kissed him.

It wasn't the clumsy, tentative first kiss one would share between someone new. It was those of two lovers so familiar with each other. Their mouths moved, their tongues caressed, and their teeth nipped. What started out as a kiss of acceptance and approval, quickly turned into a means of telling the other how much they have longed for this moment. 

Lifetimes apart were far too long to starve the need that only the other could satiate. Ian sat up in bed as Sara moved to straddle over his hips, not once breaking their heated kiss. Sara's arms wrapped around his neck, the same time his arms curled around her body. Both were surprised that she sat there naked on his lap, her clothes seemingly had melted away. Her bare body fully exposed to Ian's rough, seeking hands. Goosebumps formed in its wake as he touched, and stroke every inch of her body.

Sara moaned into his mouth as his hands trailed up to cup both breasts. She ripped her mouth from his, both breathing heavily. She stared into his eyes, silently pleading what she wanted, what they both wanted. Sara could feel his arousal hard beneath her. Teasingly she started grinded her hips against him. "Sara…" he groaned out her name. Ian reached down to stop the enticing movements of her hips.  

"Ian please," she audibly begged, "Please." 

All that separated the two from completion was a thin sheet that covered the lower half of his body. Ian lifted Sara slightly off his lap and yanked away the obstructive material aside. Now, nothing stood in their way. Ian rolled Sara onto her back, slowly easing his weight into her. Both gasped as finally two destinies became one. Sara keened out his name as his movements above her started to quicken. They hung on to each other tightly as Ian drove them closer and further over the edge. Their voices cried out filling the emptiness around them. Their names being echoed back. 

Spent, they lay there in their bed entangled and joined. Neither one knowing where one started and the other ended. It did not matter either because they were together now. Just as it should be. Ian rolled over onto his back, pulling Sara with him. They closed their eyes content for the first time in who knows how long. Sara sighed, her head resting on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep. 

Then the dream suddenly took a cruel turn. The warmth that had surrounded them was replaced with an icy chill. They were no longer on a bed but on cold, solid marbled floor. Sara's head still rested on Ian's chest, but she realized it no longer raised and fall as he breathe. She couldn't even hear the beating of his heart. A rush of dread coursed through her body as she lifted her head.

Sara started crying, tears streaming down her face. "No," she whispered. Ian's face was pale, cold, and lifeless. Blood from his mouth and nose flowed down, pooling onto the floor. "Ian!?" She called out, rigorously shaking his shoulders, hoping to coax him back to life. Through her tears, she noticed a large wound, centered on his chest. The wound reminder her of how Conchobar died. A sword through the chest.

Sara felt something tapping her shoulder. She turned only to be faced with the tip of a sword. She ran her eyes up the blade to see who was wielding it. Kenneth Irons. A smug smirk etched into his demonic face. Sara called out to the Witchblade but when she looked down to her wrist, it was gone. It had abandoned her. "Looking for this?" Kenneth said, showing her that the blade was on his wrist. 

"Oh God," she whispered, still clutching on to Ian's dead body.

"Not quite my dear." Irons arrogantly replied. Sara reached for her side arm but found the holster empty. 

"Why delay the inevitable, Sara? Don't you want to join your friends?" Kenneth motioned around the room. She then realized the other bodies that littered the floor. Gabriel, Natasha, Jake, and Faith. They were all there, dead. "No!" she screamed repeatedly. 

"Good-bye, Sara." Irons swiped down with the Witchblade.

Sara bolted up, her arms flaying out, grabbing a hold onto the couch. She wiped away the sheen of sweat on her face with a shaky hand. Pushing aside wisps of hair that were matted to her forehead. 

"Hey you okay?"

Sara looked up to see Tasha standing at the end of the couch. Familiar amber eyes stared back at her, full with concern. Before answering, Sara took a couple of deep breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. "I'm…fine." She exhaled, "I'm sorry if I woke you."

Natasha shook her head, "Actually, I was already awake. I just came down to make some tea. Would you like some? It might help." She suggested. 

"I could go for some coffee instead." 

"Sure thing. I'll get started on it." Natasha walked off towards the kitchen. After a few more minutes to regain her composure, Sara pushed the blanket aside and stood up a bit unsteadily. After another minute, she padded bare foot into the kitchen. She inhaled the welcoming scent of coffee then stared making her way over to the counter. Natasha stopped her and instructed her to sit down. "I got it, Sara."

After it was done Tasha poured a cup for Sara and handed it to her. She sat in the opposite side of the table, sipping her tea. Sara blew at the hot liquid and carefully took a sip of the coffee. "Better?" Natasha asked. Sara nodded her head in response. "Thanks, Natasha."

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Sara stared into her coffee unable to explain what her dream was about. Even she had a difficult time figuring it out. What did it all mean? Besides the obvious parts of it, of course. How could she tell Natasha that she was killed, along with everyone else she knew, in her dream? What role did this woman play in her life? They just met for crying out loud. 

Then it left the open question, 'What happened?' What events had taken place to have lead everyone to his or her demise? Why had the blade abandon her for Kenneth Irons? The questions swirled in her mind, giving her a headache. Ultimately, Sara just shook her head no.

Natasha nodded her head and quickly changed the subject, "So, who's Ian?"

Sara's head snapped up, "What…why do you ask?"

"I heard you calling out his name earlier." Natasha smiled at Sara who was blushing. 

"You…you heard me?" Sara asked wide-eyed and embarrassed. Self-consciously she looked over her shoulder over to Jake's closed bedroom.

Natasha laughed, "Don't worry about Jake. He's a pretty sound sleeper. I would take a lot to wake him up. Besides, you weren't that loud. You were just mumbling his name in your sleep. That's all."

Sara buried her flushed face into her hands, shaking her head. The memories of the dream were still very fresh in her mind. She still could feel his touch; taste him on her mouth, and the way his body moved with her. Sara could feel her cheeks getting much warmer. 

"So, who is he? Boyfriend? Lover?" Natasha curiously watched as she sipped her tea. 

"He's a….he's…. complicated." 

"What's complicated? Either you like him or you don't." 

"Come on partner stop fooling yourself already." Danny appeared, standing behind Natasha.

Sara sighed, "Ian is…he's," she paused remembering the dreams from last night and earlier, "He's someone I've grown to care for greatly." And that was all she said. Apparently, it was enough for both Danny and Natasha. Yet, both could tell there was more to just 'caring' but they weren't going to press the issue. Danny disappeared and Natasha changed the subject.

"Is that his ring?" Natasha motioned to the necklace. 

"May I?" Sara nodded her head.

Natasha moved over to inspect the ring in her hand. "Its beautiful," letting her fingers run over the intricate design, "I've seen something like this before. My grandmother's older brother had worn a ring like this."

"What?" 

"Yeah," Natasha started as if she was in some trance, "I've seen some of the pictures. I remember it because it had a blue stone just like this." She ran her finger over the stone. It swirled to the touch and captivated her attention. Sara recognized that dazed look in Natasha's eyes; she was in a vision. It did not take long before Natasha started blinking and shaking her head. 

Sara curiously stared at Natasha waiting to see if she'd tell her what just happened. They didn't get the chance when Jake showed up still half asleep. "Morning guys," he yawned, "What's up?"

Sara and Natasha shared a knowing look but said nothing more to each other. "I better go change. Got a lot of errands I need to take care of." Tasha rushed off to her room.

"Yeah, well I'm going to change and get ready for work." Sara said. She grabbed her stuff and disappeared into the bathroom. Jake watched as both women left him standing alone in the kitchen. 

~*~

Faith winced as she slip the ubiquitous gloves on. She flexed and curled her fingers stretching out the stiffness of the leather. Careful of her left hand, favoring it because of the gash across the palm. A wound inflicted up by Sara's partner, Jake. She picked up the bullet, rolling it around on her hand. If she had not been fast enough and caught the bullet who knows if she'd be alive right now.  

Faith placed the bullet into her coat pocket. Intending to return it to Agent McCarty. 'He shot at me,' Faith irritably reflected, 'That idiot shot at me.' Pushing the thought aside, Faith made her way out of the apartment. After a shower and a new set of clean clothes, Faith was ready to take on yet another day. She sat in her car and waited for the garage doors to open. While waiting, she stared at her gloved hands.

She loathed wearing the damn things. They were only reminders of what they represented. 

…Always remember - the less emotional attachment you have, the less vulnerable you'll be. Isolation is safety…

Being a naïve child pining for a father's affection and acceptance, she had believed him then. Yet, as she grew older Faith understood. Control. It's always about control. Faith wrapped her hand tightly around the stirring wheel. Not only did they represent control, but also it brought back painful memories of what she was made to become. A lethal and loyal warrior. An extension of her father's dominating hand. 

'No more,' Faith thought as she shook herself back to reality. 'Nope, not any more Father." She put the car into gear and drove off. Ready to face the new day.

~*~

"Don't move. Don't even breathe." Dr. Immo instructed as he inserts the needle near the outer corner of Irons' left eye. Nottingham stood behind Irons, complete abhorrence covered his face as he held his master's face between his hands. Slowly, Immo injected what little blood he was able to obtain from the washcloth into Irons. He pulls out the syringe the same time Nottingham releases his hold. 

The serum started to work the moment they stepped back. The signs of aging took a reversal affect. Irons, no longer an old man, returned to his normal self. He rises from his chair and raises his arms, "Behold," he yells, "Time runs two ways."

Immo stands there amazed, "Ponce de Leon's own grail. I still can't believe it."

Irons walked over to Immo and grabbed his shoulders, "Believe!"

"Ian!" Irons walks over to the clone that had been standing near the spiral staircase, unimpressed by what had just transpired. Irons wrapped his arm around Nottingham's shoulders, "Though I was rather disappointed that you failed to bring me Sara Pezzini. I will give you another chance. Bring her to me," Irons paused then added, "Dead or alive."

A slow ominous smile formed on Nottingham's lips. He walked over to a table and picked up Dr. Immo's scalpel. This time he was more then willing to do his master's bidding. "Yes, master." He nodded and immediately left the room. 

~*~

Despite Jake's protest of releasing their only witness, Sara escorted Charlene out of the precinct. She turned to the younger woman and said, "Look, you stay low, out of sight.  I may need you to come forward ..." Charlene pursed her lips, resolutely shaking her head, especially after the brief encounter with the cop that had killed Prospero. "No, I told you…."

"Look, I will only contact you when I can guarantee your safety. Otherwise, I will leave you alone. Do you believe me?" Searching the young woman's eyes. 

Charlene sighed, "Yeah."

Sara moved in closer, and whispered, "Charlene, between you and me, that guy we encountered down in the holding cell, he was our killer, wasn't he?" Remembering the brief meeting with Orlinsky. Charlene hugged herself tightly and weakly nodded her head. Sara watched Charlene walk off before entering back into the precinct. Unaware that someone had been watching them from the second floor window. 

Dante turned around to face one of his White Bull members. "Have you taken care of that Bowman problem yet?" 

Burgess shook his head, "Not yet, Sir. But I'm on my way right now."

"Good, Orlinsky's got some other matters to attended to so take Dorfman with you. Get out of here." Burgess nodded his head and left. 

Sara was walking back to her office when the news came in over the PA, "Available detectives, units reporting a dead body roll-out at 4711 Prospect Street." She stopped in dead in her tracks, recognizing the address. "Joe!" Sara turned around and rushed out of the building. 

~*~

When she arrived on the scene a body was already being wheeled out. She jumped out of the car and started protesting, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. What the hell are you guys doing? You can't do that until the..." She trailed off when Orlinsky stepped out of the building. 

"I got the case, Pezzini." He smugly informed her. 

Her brows furrowed, "The call just came in."

Shrugging his shoulders he said, "Yeah, I know. I was in the neighborhood." 

"What?"

"You don't want this one, Pezzini. You're too close. It's Joe Siri. People around you keep dying. Why is that?" Sara snarled at his insulting remark. He walked pass her and continued down the steps. Marie stepped out from the building, surrounded by concerning friends. 

"Marie…" Sara called to the older woman but she was greeted with a cold stare. Marie turned her back on Sara and walked away from her.  

Sara walked down to the sidewalk and started to cry. She looked over to Orlinsky who gave her a smug smirk and turned his back to her. Leaning against her car Sara buried her face into her hands and started to cry. While she sobbed, the blade threw Sara a horrifying vision. 

"Oh God, Gabriel!"

~*~

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Yeah, yeah I'm coming." Gabriel called out. He unlocked the door and swung it open. On the other side was a woman that could pass as Ian's sister. Gabe caught himself staring and mentally shook his head. "Let me guess I look like someone you know, right?" Natasha jokingly added. What is up with these weird people? "I'm sorry, didn't mean to stare and yes you do." 

Natasha tossed aside the apology, "It's okay. I'm actually getting use to it."

"Huh? Um, who are you?"

She shook her head, "Anyway, I'm Natasha Marion. We spoke last night about the switched cell phones."

The pieces clicked and Gabe quickly ushered her into the apartment, "Oh, right. Um, please come in."

"Thanks," she said curiously staring at the number of strange objects displayed around the room. She moved closer to one of the shelves, examining what appeared to be a small head. Her eyes then wondered down to an intricate designed vase. She reached out to open the lid and see what was inside. Where those ashes?

"That's a, uh, pre-Columbian funeral urn with the remains of a thousand-year-old Mayan princess." She jumped at Gabe's voice. Not realizing that he was standing behind her. 

Natasha turned around and eyed him curiously, "So, what exactly do you do with all this…stuff?"

Gabe grinned, "I sell'em off."

"People actually buy them?" He nodded his head. "I'll keep this place in mind if I need anything out of the ordinary and the truly bizarre as Christmas gifts." Gabe started to laugh. 

"Anyway, here's Faith's phone. I still can't believe I had it this whole time." She handed Gabriel the phone. "Do you know when I can get mines back?"

"Actually, let me have your number and I'll give Faith a call right now." Gabe picked up his phone and started to dial when knockings at the door interrupted him. "Excuse me," he said and laid the phones down on top of the desk. Tasha sat down in the chair and waited. 

Gabe unlocked the door and was surprised to see who it was. Immediately, he tried to shut the door but wasn't quick enough. The two men barged in. Burgess chased after Gabriel who started running towards the back of the shop. Natasha bolted up from her seat and scream as she watched a large man tackle Gabriel, sending the young man crashing through a display case. 

Panic-stricken, Natasha didn't know what to do. Natasha ran, trying to escape but was stopped by another man. His gun aimed on her. "Where do you think you're going, sweetheart? Sit your ass back down and don't try anything." Natasha reluctantly obeyed and sat down. Nervously she watched as the large man started beating on Gabriel. 

The other man who held the gun started addressing Gabriel, "What's the matter cupcake? Got a problem with authority?"

Burgess yanked Gabe up to his feet and held him captive in a half nelson. "What do you guys want?"

Ian had heard the loud crash and quickly walked over to the bedroom door. He listened in and tried to decipher what was happening. Apparently, two of Dante's men were ordered to pay a visit to Gabriel. He didn't know why but things weren't sounding good. He was also aware that there was another person in the room. A woman, from what he could hear. 

Armed with only the blades in the soles of his boots, Ian needed to find another way to regain control of the situation without compromising both Gabriel's and the woman's life. Quickly he donned on his shirt and exited the room through the fire escape. Instead of going down, Ian made his way up the stairs onto the roof. He would have to enter the apartment through the front door. 

"Maybe this little lady might know something, hm?" Dorfman aimed his gun on Natasha who was trembling in her seat, tears streaming down her face. "Hey man, she doesn't know anything. Just let her go, man. Let her go!" Gabe yelled but winced as Burgess tightens his hold on him. 

"Sorry kid, can't do that. We've got our orders." Dorfman said his gun still aimed on Natasha. Gabriel slipped from Burgess' arms as the burly man eased his hold on him. Gabriel rushed towards Dorfman but did not get far, as he was yanked back by the collar of his shirt. Burgess grabbed him and bounced his head off the door. "Nice try sparky, but not good enough."

Gabe's body slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. His head was spinning due to the blow, and blood was trickling down from his mouth. Dorfman shoved Natasha over to where Gabriel was. Burgess pulled out his gun and screwed on a silencer to the barrel. "Well it was fun, but its time to say good-bye." He lowered his gun and aimed at them. Natasha cowered over Gabe's body. 

Dorfman took a few steps back and bumped into something. Before he was able to turn around, a hand appeared out of now where and twisted his head to the side, snapping his neck. Ian grabbed the gun before the body had a chance to fall to the ground. He fired twice into Burgess' back. 

Tasha and Gabe jumped at the sound of gunshots. When they realized that there weren't dead, both sat up to see what happened. Surprised because both men were on the floor, dead. 

"Are you all right, Gabriel?" Ian asked.

Gabe carefully stood up, holding onto his side, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Gabe reached down to help Natasha off the floor. Her eyes were still glued onto the two bodies. "And what about you, miss?" It was only then that Natasha registered Ian's presence. She looked up into familiar eyes. "Oh my God, its you." Natasha whispered, staggering backwards against the wall. 

Gabe stared between the two unsure what was going on. Ian was obviously just as confused about Natasha's unexpected behavior. "Uh, what now Ian?" Tearing his eyes away from the woman Ian said, "It is not safe here. We need to move." That is when he spotted Faith's cell phone on top the desk. He picked it up and dialed a few numbers. 

Faith sat in her car when the GPS mounted on the dashboard started to beep. She picked it up and stared at the screen. She recognized the blinking red dot. It was the tracer planted in…her phone. 'Impossible,' she thought. The location was all wrong. She fished out the cell from her pocket and closely examined it. This wasn't hers. 'Shit!' She started the car and sped through the streets back to Gabriel's apartment. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you guys!" Natasha protested, her back pressed against the wall, arms out in defense. The situation had finally hit her. She was in a room with two dead guys, and two guys she knew nothing about. All she had wanted was her damn cell phone back. "We should call the cops."

"Can't do that." Gabe said, gently wipe blood from his mouth. 

"Why not? I have a friend who's a cop. He'd help us."

"The police won't help." Faith said upon entering the apartment. She eyed the bodies sprawled on out on the floor. Concerned she walked over to Gabriel and pressed her palm against his uninjured face. "Are you all right, Angel?" Seeing how beaten up he looked. He nodded his head, "I'll live." Faith weakly smiled willing the tears away that threaten to fall. She wouldn't let her mind dwell on the 'what if'. Instead, be thankful that Ian was here. 

"We need to leave. Angel, I want you to pack what you need for a few days." Gabe nodded and disappeared into his bedroom. 

Natasha was shaking her head, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. First I am not going anywhere with you people. Secondly, why can't we call the cops? It was only in self-defense. I'm sure they will understand. Just let me call my friend."

"You can't do that Natasha," Faith walked over to one of the bodies, fished out their badge, and showed it to Natasha, "Because they were cops also." 

"Oh my God," she gasp, her eyes widen with panic. She stared down at the two bodies. Cops? Dead cops? She ran a shaky hand through her hair. "This can't be happening. Why would two cops come here and try to kill us?" Just as the words slips, her panic-stricken eyes looked at the people in the room. "Who the fuck are you people?" She started inching herself away from Faith and Ian. Her eyes wondered around the apartment looking for an exit. Wishing that she had her cell phone so she could call Jake. What the hell did she get herself into?

Faith held her hands up, her voice was calm as she spoke, "I can't get into details but these men were dirty cops. They were sent to kill Gabriel and they were going to kill you too if Ian here didn't stop them." Tasha continued to move away from them not really listening to her. All she wanted to do was run as fast and as far as she could from these people. 

"I know you're terrified but you have to understand if you don't come with us your life will be in danger. These men were a part of a very large organization of corrupt police officers. They will kill you if they find you."

"But I had nothing to do with this!" She finally stopped and yelled at Faith.

"It doesn't matter. They will kill you just because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"How will I know you won't kill me?"

"You'd think I'd go through this much trouble to convince you otherwise? I came to your rescue once remember? You'll just have to trust me. I swear nothing will happen to you if you come with us." Faith could tell her words were being considered. Faith slowly neared closer and offered her hand. She made no other move afraid that any sudden movements might scare Natasha off.

Gabe re-emerged from the bedroom with both a duffle bag and the medical bag. He tossed Ian his coat and walked around the bodies. "So, where are we going, Faith?"

"Somewhere safe," she said not taking her eyes of Natasha.

Tasha nodded her head and placed her hand in Faith's. "Okay then. Let's get out of here."

"Faith?" Ian called. 

"It's the silver Jag parked in front. Gabe, take Natasha down with you." 

Ian waited until they left before he started speaking. "Why did she have your phone?" He asked handing it back to her. "It must have been mixed up while at the airport."

"Who is she?" He finally asked. 

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

"What makes you think I know anything about her? I've never met up until now."

Faith shook her head, "I don't know what I'm thinking. It's just the resemblance is so strong. I just figured she'd be your…." She stopped herself from saying anything else. 

"My what?" 

"Forget it, Ian. We do not have time to discuss this right now. We have to go." Ian agreed this wasn't the time. Nevertheless, Natasha's startled words when she first looked at him bothered Ian. What did she mean, 'It's you?' he wondered. Without another word, both headed for the exit.  
  


Minutes later Sara pulled up next to the building, got of the car, and rushed in. As she neared the apartment door, she drew out gun. She tested the knob, and it gave way. The door slowly swung open and Sara cautiously stepped in. Quietly she maneuvered around the apartment. Her heart nearly sank when she spotted a body lying on the floor. She could not tell who it was but all she could do was pray it wasn't Gabriel. 

She walked further and spotted another body on the floor only a few feet from the first one. As she approached closer, she was able to recognize who they were, Dorfman and Burgess. Panic crept up her spine and Sara yelled out, "Gabriel!" She called out again but there was no answer. 

"He's not here, Sara." Danny appeared standing on the other sides of the bodies. 

"Oh God, Danny." Sara thought the worst and tears started to well in her eyes. 

"He's alive, Pez. He's just not…here." Danny emphasized, spreading out his hands. 

"Then where is he, Danny?"

Danny thought for a minute then said, "Trust me, he's safe." Danny's face quickly changed from the tranquil façade into a look of worry. "You on the other hand, are not. You have to get out Sara! Go now!"

"What?" She hadn't heard that much fear in Danny's voice in a long time. Trepidation engulfed her senses as the blade flared crimson on her wrist. "Hello Sa-ra." She whirled around and aimed her gun at Nottingham. "My master needs you." 

"Screw your master." A soft click echoed in the room as she cocked the hammer back on her gun.

Nottingham only laughed at her retort, not the least bit phased by the gun she held. The silver scalpel he held tightly in his hand caught Sara's attention. He stood between her and the front door. Sara's hearts started racing. Where else could she go? 

"Sara?" Danny called from the bedroom. She turned her head and noticed Danny standing near the window. A window that lead out to the fire escape. Sara started shooting at Nottingham but was shocked when he caught and dodged most of her bullets. She continued firing, keeping Nottingham at bay while she hurried into the bedroom. She swiftly shut and locked the door. 

She rushed to the window, clumsily dropping her firearm while working to open the window. Finally open, she bent to pick up her gun when Nottingham burst through the door. Leaving her gun behind Sara quickly crawled out to fire escape and hurriedly climbed down. Nottingham didn't follow her but turned around and headed the opposite direction. 

Sara jumped down the last few steps and ran for her car. She skidded to a halt when Nottingham appeared in front of her. Sara whirled around and ran the other way. Nottingham followed close behind, enjoying the cat and mouse game. As Sara neared the end of the alley, she noticed that wooding fencing blocked her way. It was too tall for her to climb. 

She turned around and watched as Nottingham casually walked towards her. Her chest heaving up and down from all that running. Sara was unarmed. Her gun was up in Gabe's apartment, lying on the bedroom floor, and the blade remained lifeless on her wrist. How could she possibly defend herself against a clone assassin with psychotic tendencies? 

The answer came sailing through the air and landed gracefully in front of Sara. "Faith? I thought you were dead?"

"Why Detective, I didn't know you cared. I'm truly touched." Faith said over her shoulder. 

"How…"

"Not now, Sara. Go on get out of here. I'll hold scar face back while you escape."

"But…" Sara started to protest.

"GO!" Faith yelled, cutting Sara off.  

"You again. I owe you one, bitch." Nottingham said, pointing the scalpel at Faith. His other hand tracing over the right side of his face. 

Faith grinned, "Come on, scar face." A jagged blade jutted out from beneath her coat sleeve. "I'll give you a matching one on the other side of your face." Half teasing and half threatening.

Sara ran to the end of the alley and spotted a dumpster settled into the corner. She hopped on top but stopped to watch Faith in a deadly dance with Nottingham. This was truly the first time she was able to witness Faith's fighting extent and Sara was in awe at how skillful she really was. 

"PETZINI! You're under arrest!" Dante shouted from Gabe's bedroom window. "McCarty get her!" Sara turned to see Jake at the other end of the alley running after her, with his gun drawn. "Jake?" she could not believe what she was seeing. Dante stepped out onto the fire escape and started shooting. The blade came to life and deflected some of the bullets. She hopped up and hurriedly climbed over the fence. Jake immediately turned around and ran the other way. Running down another alley, hoping to catch up with Sara. 

The fight between Faith and Nottingham quickly ceased as both ran from the alley. Nottingham burst through a side door of the building and Faith hopped over the fence, following Sara. Dante called in for back up and disappeared back inside Gabe's apartment.

~*~

Sara ran as fast as her legs would take her. She turned down another alley and then another. She looked behind her and when she didn't see anyone following her, she slowed down. Out of breath and tired, Sara leaned against the wall, taking a breather. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. After a few deep breaths, Sara pushed herself from the wall and walked down the alley. 

Her heart dropped when Jake appeared at the end of the alley. Breathless he called to her, "Sara this way out." Waving her over to him. 

"I wouldn't, Sara." Faith appeared at the other end of the alley. Sara looked between the two. She was stuck right in the middle. Faith continued, "He's a White Bull. Recruited by Dante himself. He's been setting you up for some time now."

"She's lying, Sara. She doesn't know what she's talking about. Besides, who is she anyway, huh? We don't know anything about her. You gonna listen to her?" Jake said while slowly making his way closer. 

"I'm the one that gave you the tape of your father." That caught Sara's attention. "What?"

"Months ago, under orders, Ian stole it from a box of effects Captain Siri left you. But he wanted me to return it to you when you needed it most, against orders." Sara shook her head; she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"What's she talking about?" Jake asked. 

"Sara, I saved your life, twice. I am the one person you can trust." 

Danny appeared behind Faith. Sara pleaded with him to help. He motions his head towards Faith. Silently telling Sara that she should trust this woman. "All right, I have to roll the dice on someone." Sara looked between Faith and Jake. "So I'm gonna roll them on you...Faith."

"What?!" Jake yelled. Sara was making a mistake. Frustrated, Jake drew his weapon and fired five times at Faith. 

Faith whirls around and disappears around the corner. Sara looks at Jake in disbelief. Suddenly a side door opens and a guy exits out with a handful of garbage bags. Sara bolts for the door and runs inside. 

"Sara!" 

"McCarty?!" Jake turns around, Dante and a few other White Bull members came running down the alley. "Where'd she go?"

Jake shrugs his shoulders, "I lost her, Cap. But I think went that way." Pointing in another direction. 

"All right split up. Half go that way, the rest come with me. Let's go McCarty." Jake taking up the rear. 

~*~


	63. Chapter Sixty three

~*~ 

Sara sprinted through the entrance of the building onto the busy sidewalk. She stood in the middle of the bustling crowd, her frantic eyes falling onto unfamiliar faces and figures passing by. Slightly relieved that not one were recognized as members of the White Bulls or Nottingham. Though the sense of danger still lingered heavily in the air. The blade grew hotly on her wrist and Sara's already racing heart started to beat faster with panic. Her eyes darted left and right, searching for an escape. What was she going to do? Where was she going to go?

The loud roar of a bus screeching to a halt pulled Sara out of her disquiet reverie. Without a second thought, she rushed for the bus and got on. Quickly taking a seat near the back and cowered from sight. She stared at the doors, waiting in anticipation for it to close. Only when she heard them hiss shut did she let out a sigh of relief. Soon the bus slowly rolled down the street, leaving behind the Bulls who had just vacated the very spot Sara stood moments ago. 

Up above the building rooftop, Faith watched as the small group off Dante's men fruitlessly searched the area for Sara. Unbeknownst to them that the number eleven bus had just whisked their prey away. Faith focused her attention on the bus and began her pursuit on foot. 

Sara straightened up in her seat and looked contemplatively out the window. Thinking how in the past couple of days her life had completely turned upside down. She didn't know what to do, where to go, and worst whom she should trust. 

"Boo!" A familiar voice broke through Sara's thoughts. She looks up to see Danny walking up the aisle towards her. "Ghost joke," he teased, sitting down besides her. "Don't act surprised or anything."

"Nothing could surprise me any more." Sara replied. 

"Not true."

"You're right," She said shaking her head reliving all the events of the past couple of days. 

"One is enriched through unfortunate events."

"Confucius?"

"Nah, I Ching, Book of Changes. Appropriate reading for you right now. 

"Yeah, I'll say." She turns to her ghostly partner, "You know, you got a fat nerve being dead right now. I could use someone like you."

Danny looks here as if she's blind, "I'm right here."

"Someone alive….Danny" Sara lowers her voice after catching some woman staring at her strangely. Forgetting that she was speaking to her dead partner that only she could see. Danny looks over his shoulder and laughs. He turns back to Sara, "There is someone you can trust, Pez?"

"Oh yeah, who, Danny?" 

"Mind if I join you?"

Sara looked up, surprised to see Faith standing in the aisle. "Surprise to see me, Detective?" Sara's mouth started to move but no words were uttered. 

"Well, while you're thinking about that I'm going to sit down. My feet are killing me." 

Sara was about to protest but stopped herself. What was she going to tell Faith? 'No, my dead partner is sitting here.' It didn't matter Danny had long disappeared. Faith sighed as she sat down. "Much better. So, Detective, where are you going?" Sara didn't answer. "You know sooner or later we'll have to get off this bus." Faith said while staring straight ahead, noting the bus route. 

"Before we go anywhere, I want to know just who the hell are you?" Sara finally said. Especially, after witnessing Faith's incredible figthing skills against Nottingham and her uncanny way of surviving after being shot not once but twice by Jake. 

Faith grinned at the question. She eyed Sara speculatively, "Before I get into detail about myself I have to ask you something. Back there in that alley you said you were going to 'roll the dice on me'. Does that mean you trust me, Detective?"

Sara ran a frustrated hand through her hair. She looked out the window watching as nameless faces blurred as they passed by. "I don't know who to trust anymore but," turning to look at Faith, "So far you've been the only person who hasn't tried to kill me in the past 48 hours. Not to mention you have saved my ass a couple of times already. I don't completely trust you, Faith. How can I? I don't even know you."

"You will in time," Faith added. 

Sara nodded her head, content that she was going to get some questions answered. "But you're the only person I got. So yes, I trust you."

"Good, now with that settled," Faith stood up and signaled for the next stop. On instinct, Sara reached forward and grabbed Faith's arm. Afraid that she was going to disappear. "Relax, Detective and just trust me. We need to get off this bus."

Sara's eyebrows shut up, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe, of course." The bus slowed down and stopped. 

Faith quickly waved down a taxi soon after getting off the bus. They got in and the driver, with his heavy New York accent asked, "Where to ladies?"

"Just drive. I'll navigate you." Faith answered rather sternly.

The driver turned around and said, "Hey look lady I'm the driver, aight. I don't tell you how to do your job and you don't tell me how to do mines. So, where tooo…."

Faith rolled her eyes, unimpressed. She flashed the driver a hundred dollar bill. That quickly changed the cabbie's attitude. "As I was saying, where to lady?"

Sara just shook her head; "You certainly have a way with people, Faith."

"What can I say, Detective. I'm a people person." Faith informed the driver where to go and they were off. 

Sara was silent throughout the ride. Trying to memorize the route, they were taking. Sara soon recognized the run down area. Not many visited here; of course, no one sane would want to. The place was full of abandon warehouses, empty lots, and condemned buildings. Danger lurked at every corner. Doubts were starting to rise, wondering if trusting Faith was really a good idea. 

"Stop right here," Faith ordered. The car pulled up in front of an old abandon church. Sara got out of the cab and impatiently waited on the sidewalk for Faith to finish up paying the taxi driver. Faith got out of the car and walked over to the driver side of the cab. Sara didn't hear what Faith had told the driver but moments later the taxi was speeding away, tires screeching as it rounded a corner. 

"What the hell was that all about?" Sara asked once Faith joined her. 

Faith just shrugged her shoulder, waving the question aside. "Oh nothing, important. Come on let's go."

"Where?" Sara spreads her arms out, "We're in the middle of a nowhere."

Faith walked down the block, "If you'd shut up and stop complaining you'll find out." She yelled over her shoulder. 

Sara sighed in frustration and ran to catch up with Faith. They turned right, down an alley and stopped at a dead end. Faith reached into her pocket and pulled out a small device. She aimed it at an old rusted metal door and a side panel appeared out of nowhere. After punching in the appropriate keys, the door hissed open with ease. 

Faith ushered Sara inside and locked the door behind them. They walked up the long flight of stairs until finally they came up to a door. Sara pushed it opened and stepped into a well-lit hallway. She pointed at the elevator; "You made me walk up those stairs when this place had an elevator this whole time?" 

Faith amusingly grinned and shrugged her shoulders. She walked passed Sara over to the double doors. "Where are we?" Sara asked. Faith pushed opened the doors and admitted Sara inside. 

The beautifully decorated loft took Sara aback. "Welcome to my home, Detective." 

"Faith?!" Someone called out. Sara immediately knew who it was. She started at Faith who only smiled. "In here, Angel." She answered back. 

Sara's eyes widen when Gabriel appeared through the archway. She rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank God you're all right. I have been so worried. I thought the White Bulls might have…" She trailed off, tears threatening to fall. Gabriel hugged her back, giving Sara the reassurance that he was indeed all right. "I'm so sorry, Gabriel. I should have known better then to have asked you to help me. I mean it's my fault that they almost…." Sara couldn't say the words. She had been so close to losing him. 

"Hey, I'm okay, Chief. A bit banged up but all right. And you got nothing to apologize for."

"But it was my fault all this happened. I shouldn't have asked." Sara added. 

"Yes you should have and I'm glad you did. You're my friend, Sara. That's what friend's do. They help each other out. So, don't think for one minute that this was your fault. Its not. Okay?"

Sara nodded her head and wiped the tears away. Before she was able to ask what had happened Faith spoke up, "Look before we get down to discussing the details, Sara why don't you go freshen up a bit, get some rest." Faith held her hands up to stop Sara's protesting. "You're more then welcome to use my room and bathroom if you want. You will find that there is a duffle bag full of your stuff near the closet." Sara was about to ask how she managed that but stopped herself. 

"The best thing to do right now is to try and calm down our racing nerves and relax. We've all had a long day, Sara. When the time is right, we'll talk. And all the questions you have will be answered….later." Faith said leaving no room for arguments.

Sara acquiescently nodded her head, "All right." She did feel drain and a shower did sound appealing. Faith guided Sara to her room and showed her where everything was. She closed the door behind her and returned to the living room. 

Faith walked over to the couch Gabe was sitting on and plopped down next to him. She exhaled a long sigh and dropped her head back onto the couch. Covering her eyes with the back of her arm. "What happened?" Gabe finally asked his curiosity was getting to him. 

Faith removed her arm and stared at the ceiling. "All hell broke loose, Angel." 

"Now that we have more time, care to fill me in on what's going on?" Gabe asked. Faith sighed once again and turned her head to look a Gabe. "All right, Angel." She said and started to explain everything.

"Whoa," was all he could say after she was done.

"One question. Does Sara know about Ian?"

"Not exactly," she answered. 

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"She knows that he's alive…."

"But she doesn't know you were the one that saved him and that Ian is here, right?"

"Exactly."


	64. Chapter Sixty four

A/N: Sorry for the loooong wait. RL has been keeping me very busy and cutting into my writing time. But here is some more Revelation as a reward for your patience. Let me know what you think. Enjoy! =)

~*~

Gabe sat there studying her, giving her a few minutes before asking; "You're going to tell them right?" 

Faith sighed and buried her face into her hands. 'When had things become so complicated,' she thought.

Hesitantly, she turned to look at Gabe. "Right?" he said when she didn't answer. Faith sat there, refusing to look at Gabe but rather concentrate her focus on something just over his shoulder. "Eventually," she finally answered.

"What do you mean by 'eventually'?" 

Flashing him a tight smile she said, "I just have a few things I'd like to discuss with Sara before I tell her anything else." 

Gabe could sense that leaving two females, with Faith and Sara's caliber, in a room is a very, very bad idea. An uneasy feeling crept over him, especially after seeing the annoyance in Faith's eyes. His eyes narrowed. "Uh, what exactly will you two be discussing?" Though Gabe already had an idea what or rather who was going to be the main topic.

"Sorry but that is between Sara and me. Now, if you will excuse me." She got up from the couch and headed for the door. "Whoa, where are you going?" Faith didn't answer him, instead she continued out the door and into the stairwell.  Gabe followed close behind. They climbed up to the next level of the building and entered through the door. 

The moment they stepped into the room, bright fluorescent lights automatically turned on, and illuminated the large room. Faith left an awestruck Gabriel standing in the doorway while she disappeared into another room to change. Gabe's eyes wondered around the open room. Large mirrors lined the opposite wall, white floor mats, and wall paddings. A wooden dummy, punching bags, weight sets all organized in their appropriate places, and just about all the equipment needed to make even a five star gym jealous. Not to mention every weapon imaginable displayed on the walls. 

Faith returned to the room dressed in a black fitted tank top and sweatpants. Her blonde mane held together in a ponytail. She found Gabe studying one of the many weapons in the room. A mischievous grin formed across her lips. Quietly, she sneaked up behind him. She tapped him on the shoulder, startling, and taking him off guard. By the time Gabe could register what was happening, he found himself laying flat against the matted floor. Though he had hit the mat quite hard, pain was the last thing he was feeling. 

And he was sure if Faith continued to straddle over him as she was doing now, she was going to be feeling something very soon. 

"You know there are other ways you could have persuaded me to get me on my back besides sneaking up and jumping me. Do not get me wrong. I am not complaining or anything," he gazed down appreciatively at their current position,  "But I could do without the pain." 

Faith started to giggle, "Sorry Angel I just couldn't resist."

Without warning, Gabe wrapped an arm around Faith and shifted his weight. He rolled them over, this time he was the one on top while she laid flat on her back. Faith stared up surprisingly at Gabe. "Hm, what other tricks do you have up your sleeves, Angel?" He wiggled his eyebrows and lowered his head. 

Faith reluctantly pulled away from Gabriel's kiss the need for air superceded the desire to continue the delicious exploration of his mouth. "You know this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I decided to come up her and work off some frustration." Faith informed rather breathlessly. Gabe grinned, "If that was all you had wanted to do, I could certainly help you with that. I know many techniques that can help…release some of that frustration."

"Hm, I bet you do," Faith revealed in the sweet sensation her Angel was bestowing upon her. Even though she wanted nothing more then to simply let go and be with Gabriel now was not the time. Though she hated to do this, she knew it was needed, for now. "Angel…"

Gabe was too busy concentrating on kissing and nipping on her neck to have heard Faith. 

"Angel?" She tried again.

"Mmm…" he had managed to say as he moved lower down her neck. 

"Angel," she rested her hands against his chest and pushed, shifting her weight so that she was now on top again, "We have to stop."

A bit stunned he looked up at her, disappointed, "What? Don't you want to…." She placed a finger on top of his lips. "It is not that I don't want to, I do actually. It's just that now is not the right time. Do you understand, Angel?"

Gabe lay there disappointed and frustrated yet he understood. Faith was right they had to stop before things got out of hand. At least her words had given him some reassurance that he wasn't the only one wanting to move their relationship up to the next level. "Yeah," he reached up to caress her cheek, "I understand, Faith." 

Faith smiled down and kissed the inside of his palm. She quickly got up to her feet and extended her hand out to help him up from the floor. Gabe may have said he understood but it was clear that his body was saying otherwise. Faith grinned as her brows shot up. Gabe looked down and shyly smiled, "Hey you can hardly blame me."

With one last kiss Faith said, "I take full responsibility, Angel. Now get out of her so I can workout alone."

Gabe smiled, "You work out your frustration your way and I'll do it mine."

"Oh," she responded a bit excitedly, "How will you do that?"

He winked and started to walk away. "I'll be drowning mine in cold water." Just as he was about to exit through the doorway, Faith called out to him. 

"Angel, do me a favor. If Sara is ready for out discussion, send her up."

Worried Gabe turned around and said, "Look Faith about this 'discussion' you have with Sara…" His voice filled with concern. He still did not like the idea of leaving the two women alone, unsupervised. Who knows what would happen between them.

"Angel do you trust me?" She cut him off before he could protest even further.

"Yes," he answered.  

"Then you have nothing to worry about because all I want from Sara is some answers." Gabe sighed and acquiescently nodded his head.  

~*~

Having gone as far as to shed her leather jacket and boots, Sara had decided to prolong her shower and made a detour for the huge bed. However, exhausted as she may be, sleep had once again eluded her. Restlessly, she tossed and turned and yet no matter how hard she tried she could not fall asleep. She glared down at the dormant bracelet on her wrist. And as much as she'd like to place the blame on the not so inanimate object for her lack of rest, she knew the real reason why she could not sleep.

"Ian," she whispered. Releasing a sigh, Sara sat up and leaned against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chest. She reached up to caress the ring that still hung around her neck, "Where are you?" She hung her head half disappointed and half annoyed that she had no answers. That was until a faint voice said, "_Follow me_." She looked up and scanned the dark room. "What?" Sara called out. Was someone else in the room with her?

"_Follow me, Wielder. I will guide you to your protector_." 

Sara looked down at her wrist to see the blade dormant and dull as ever. It wasn't the blade urging her on it was the ring. The luminescent ring she held between her fingers. Sara stared down at it in shock. She could actually feel fingers wrapping around her wrist, and the sensation of It tugging on her arm. "_Come on, Sara. Follow me_."

No use in delaying the inevitable Sara got out of bed and obediently followed. The ring guided her out of the room, down the hall, and stopped in front of a closed door. "_In here, Sara_." The faint voice whispered and the light hue from the ring disappeared as she reached for the knob. 

"What is in here?" She asked aloud, yet the voice did not answer her this time. The possibility of what was behind the door made Sara's heart beat faster. Would her dream from earlier this morning turn into reality? Could he be here lying on the bed sound asleep, waiting for her? There was only one way to find out. Sara took a deep breath and exhaled before quietly turning the knob.

The soft light from the hallway stretched through as she silently opened the door. For a brief moment, Sara simply stood in the doorway, unsure if she should proceed. Finally making her decision, Sara stepped over the threshold and walked further into the room. There was just enough light to make out the bed in front of her and the lamp that rested on the nightstand. 

She made her way over to the nightstand and reached out for the lamp switch. Before turning it on, Sara took another breath and closed her eyes. A soft click echoed into the room as she turned on the light. Slowly she started to open her eyes only to find the bed empty. Disappointed that what she had hoped for was not there. 

The sound of the front door alerted her and quickly she exited the empty room. Just as she was closing the door Gabe appeared in the hallway. He spotted Sara, and immediately his eyes started darting between her and the door behind her. "Hey," he nervously greeted, "I thought you'd be taking a shower or sleeping. What's up?" 

The uneasiness in his voice gave Sara a feeling that something was not right. She narrowed her eyes on Gabe. Shrugging her shoulders, "Didn't feel like doing both right now. So, I decided to take a little tour of the place. What are you up to?" Crossing her arms, Sara waited for an answer. 

He started to explain, "I was, um, just upstairs," pointing over his shoulder, "Talking with…Faith." Sara nodded her head, though she had noticed that Gabe's eyes, though subtle, continuously glanced over to the room behind her. 

She followed his gaze over her shoulder and asked coolly, "So, who is staying in there?"

Gabe stared at her confusingly. Wasn't she just in there moments ago? Didn't she know? Then it hit him, perhaps she didn't. Perhaps Ian was not in the room when she entered. Then where the hell could he be? Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to tell Sara everything. 'On second thought maybe I shouldn't,' he thought. If he did tell Sara, then that meant a confrontation with one pissed off blonde haired woman. Not something, that he was looking forward to. He was use to Sara's outrage but Faith was different. He had yet to test the limits he could take with her. And Gabe was not about to take that test anytime soon. 

"You mean that room over there?" He pointed over her shoulder. Sara nodded her head.

"Oh, ah, that um…would be me." Sara's brow shot up, not quite believing him. "Yeah, I'm staying in that room."

"Really?" 

"Mmhmm," Gabe vehemently nodded his head. 

"Well in that case can I come in for a few minutes?" 

Shit. Gabe's mind started working over time, trying to think of a good reason to reject Sara's request. He made his way to the door, positioning himself between Sara and what was behind door number one. "Actually, Chief I was going to jump in the shower right now." Gabe could only hope that was enough of an excuse to thwart Sara's need to come into the room. "I'm sure you could spare a few minutes, Gabe."

'Damn,' he thought. "Well I could but…um…I don't know about Faith."

Sara's brows scrunched up, "What do you mean?"

"She's waiting for you. Said that if you're ready to have those questions answered that I should go ahead and take you upstairs." Gabe held his breath, waiting to see what Sara was going to do next because he was quickly running out of ways to keep her from entering the room. 

"Okay, let's go." She finally said. 

He let out a sigh of relief and happily started to guide Sara to the training room where Faith waited. Sara looked over her shoulder once more to the closed room. Something was off, Sara could feel it, and she did not need the blade to tell her that. Yet, the need for answers overwhelmed her curiosity about the mysterious room the ring had guided her to.

After ushering Sara to the training room, Gabe headed back downstairs, ready to take that shower. Just as he was about to close the door, a voice called out to him, "Gabriel?"

Gabe jumped at the unexpected presence standing behind him. "Man, you scared the shit out of me."

"It was not my intention," Ian apologized.

Gabe shook his head, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He eyed Ian, "What are you doing out of bed? Faith would kill you if she seen you out here."

"Was that the person you were talking to just outside my room?" Ian asked, recalling the muffled voices he heard earlier. 

Gabe began to stammer for an explanation, "Uh…y…yeah, that was us."

"When did she return?"

"Oh, um, not too long ago." 

"Where is Faith? I need to speak with her."

'Not before Sara does,' Gabe mused. He started biting his nails nervously. He may have been able to thwart of Sara earlier but he wasn't so sure he could do the same with Ian. Ian spoke again when Gabe took a bit too much time to answer, "Where is she, Gabriel?"

"Uh well funny thing you should ask…."

~*~


	65. Chapter Sixty five

A/N: I know, I know. Finally! Sorry for the long wait but here is more. Enjoy =)

~*~

The thunderous raindrops pounding against the windows echoed in the large room accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing exhaled by the occupant inside. Faith fluidly guided the katana she held in her hand expertly through the air. Fighting against imaginary foes, she had conjured up in her mind. She struck down at them, slicing her enemies in half, and thrusting the gleaming blade into their non-existent bodies. 

She continues to train letting her body once again become accustom with the movements. It had been awhile since she had been involved in a dance of death. Confronting the clone, earlier that day had been hard. Too hard in fact. At the rate they had been fighting, she was surprise she still had her head attached to her body. Nonetheless, she had managed to step away from the fight with just a few scratches and some bruises. Yet, she had her doubts if she would be so lucky the next time around. The clone had proven to be a very formidable opponent.

Remembering the fight in the alley made Faith push herself harder. Rigorously training her body pass the point of pain and exhaustion. In hopes that the next time she and the clone fought, she would be victorious in the end. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck started to rise. Something was off she thought as the air around her changed. Apparently, one of her imaginary foes decided to come to life.

Faith continues to train, not letting on that she sensed another presence in the room. She tightens her grip on the handle of the katana and swiftly twirls around, intending to strike down the intruder with a deadly blow to the head. Surprised azure eyes stared back into passive dark ones. The edge of the blade dangerously hovered a hair's breath away from Lazar's neck.

"Good evening to you too my child," the older man smiled, not the least bit fazed that Faith had been that close in severing his head from his body. 

Faith stared at Lazar, baffled by the man's calm behavior. She carefully lowered the katana and began to yell, "Damn it, Lazar! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

Lazar shook his shaggy head nonchalantly, and shrugged his shoulders, "No," he answered coolly.

At loss for words, Faith could only stare at Lazar. Then a disbelieving snort escaped her lips, "No he says," she replies in a mocking manner. Shaking her head, she turns to replace the katana back on the stand. "Do you realize just how close…."

Lazar raised his hand cutting Faith off, "There is need for you to yell at me, Faith." 

She lets out a frustrated huff, rolls her eyes, and throws her arms into the air, "Oh, I'm sorry Lazar. Forgive me for yelling and getting so worked up about almost… killing you!" she sarcastically retorted. 

Lazar grinned, amused by her behavior. "I apologize for sneaking up on you, my child."

Faith narrowed her eyes on him, "Yeah well, don't ever do that again unless you **want** to lose your head."

"Duly noted," he said with a grin.

"So," she started still shaking her head, "What did I do to deserve yet another visit from you? Which, by the way, I'm not even going to try and figure out how you got in here in the first place."

Lazar cleared his throat, covering up the smug smirk that had appeared across his lips.

"I've come to express my concerns."

Faith's brows furrowed in confusion, "Concerns over what?"

"Why are you trying so hard in keeping Sara and Ian apart."

"I am not keeping them apart, Lazar!" Faith declared.

"Perhaps, but you have yet to disclose information to either them about the other's whereabouts. Why?" 

Faith let out a lengthy sigh, "I am not trying to keep them apart its just that before I tell them anything I would like to know the wielder's version on what had happened between her and Ian."

"Why? What do you hope to gain?"

"Knowledge, that's what." She replied a bit harshly, "I want to know what happened between them Lazar. What was said and done to have pushed Ian to…" she paused and sighed. 

"Ian is safe now because of you. Why dwell on the past, Faith?"

"So the same mistakes will not be repeated in the future! What if she does or says something to push him over the edge again. Then what?"

"Then that is something **they** must deal with." 

"But…" 

Lazar started shaking his head, putting a stop to Faith's protest. "I know you are only trying to protect Ian but you are not giving them much credit. Least of all the wielder."

Faith rolled her eyes and snorted incredulously, "Oh please, why should I give her the benefit of the doubt especially after what she has done to him and don't get me started on Ian."

Lazar stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulder, "My child, have you not stopped to realize that you and the wielder have much in common?"

"Excuse me?" She said, raising a disagreeing brow, "Oh, please do enlighten me, Lazar."

"Think about it. All these years you've kept the young Mr. Bowman at arms length. Not letting yourself get too close because you were afraid. Why?"

"That is different, Lazar. I was trying to…."

"You were protecting him," Lazar finished for her. "The same way the wielder has been protecting Ian, from herself. I admit the methods are…different but the means are the same. Don't you agree?" Faith remained silent, not liking the idea that maybe Lazar might be right. 

"I also feel that there is more to this thirst for answers. That you have another reason why you are keeping them apart?"

Crossing her arms she asks, "What are you talking about?" 

"You know what they say 'To name is to know. To know is to control.' Is it answers or control that you truly seek, Faith?" 

"What are you implying, Lazar?" 

He sighed, shaking his head, "Your actions mirrors so much like someone I know." Her eyes narrowing upon him. Lazar did not have to elaborate on whom he was referring. She knew all to well who he was talking about. "Don't you dare compare me to him!" Faith tore away from Lazar and made her way towards the window, absently watching as rain pelted against the glass. Her eyes shifted to stare at her reflection. She looked closely at herself, comparing her facial features with those of her father's. 

Lazar walked behind her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. Eerily, Faith watched as his reflection in the window transformed into that of Kenneth Irons. She studied both reflections and noted the strong similarities. So much of him was in her. Tears began to stream down her face as she shut her eyes against the image, she whispered, "I am not my father!" However, as much as she protests she cannot deny the fact that his blood courses through her veins, and that she will forever be an Irons.

"I never implied that you were my child. You are far better then he is, never forget that." Faith slowly opened her eyes and the reflection of Kenneth Irons was gone. Lazar continued to speak, "Yet, what you are **doing** is precisely what he has been doing all these years. I know that your reasons are different from his, and you are only doing what you think is right but listen to me. Do not become selfish like your father. Do not let your personal issues keep them apart."

"I don't mean to, Lazar. Its just, I was so close in losing Ian. He is the only family I have left. I can't lose him."

"I understand, Faith. Yet, you continue to deceive him, and keep them apart you will lose him anyway. Do what you **feel** is right, my child. And when the time comes, there is only one question you need to ask the wielder."

"Which is?" 

Lazar shrugged his scrawny shoulders, "You will know." 

He gave a small smile and a reassuring squeeze on her shoulders. He started to walk away, "Also, do give Sara a chance. Remember what I said, you two have more in common then you think." Before she even realized it, he was gone. 

Faith stood near the window, blankly staring out into the dark stormy night. Her mind occupied with the conversation she had with Lazar. That was until the sound of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. She watched on the windowpane as Sara made her way closer to her. Faith had yet to indicate that she was aware of Sara's presence. Instead, Faith continued to stay rooted near the window, silent as ever. 

After clearing her throat twice, Sara finally decided to speak up. "Gabe told me…"

"I'll tell you everything you want to know, Sara." Faith spoke over her shoulder, cutting Sara off, "On one condition."

Sara's eyebrow raised in uncertainty, "Yeah, what's that?"

"Be honest and tell me the truth," Faith turned around to face Sara, arms crossed. "What are your feelings towards Ian Nottingham?"

The simple question took Sara off guard. Her mouth began to move yet nothing was said, her eyes wondered around the room, and her brows began to furrow. After some time Sara finally spoke, "Look I really don't think that is any of your…."

Faith held up her hands and grinned, "I know, I know. It's none of my business, but I would really like to know, please."

Sara stared at Faith, "Why does it matter so much to you?" she wondered.

"Because Sara," Faith walked away from the window to stand in front of her. "His happiness means the world to me and that I …."

"Love him," Sara finished for her.

Faith smiled and nodded her head, "Yes."

Sara's brows furrowed, "Does he, um, feel the same way?" There was no disguising the hint of pain and sadness in Sara's voice. Without hesitation Faith replied, "Yes he does."

"I…I see," Sara hung her head, remorseful and hurt. 

Both women stood silently in front of each other. Faith tried to study Sara's reaction but she was having trouble gauging what the other must be thinking. Sara avoided making any type of eye contact, not wanting Faith to see the tears that were blurring her vision. 

"Sara?" Faith called to her.

Sara shook her head, and her voice started to crack, "I, uh, I think its great." 

"Sara?" she said again, trying to gain the woman's attention.

Sara didn't here Faith and continued to speak, "I'm sure you two will be happy together."

"Sara?" She sighed. "Look," Faith continued wanting to set things straight before things got out of hand, "I think you might have misunderstood what I meant when I said I love him."

Sara's head snapped up, here eyes blurry from tears, "What is there to misunderstand? You're in love with Ian and like you said he feels the same way, right?" Thinking about Ian in love with someone else was hard to accept and to say it aloud was painful.

'Why am I hurting so much?' Sara thought. 

_"Because you're in love with him, Sara." _There was no denying whom the ethereal voice belonged too. She glanced down at the bracelet. A chuckle escaped Faith's lips, catching Sara's attention. "What?"

Faith nodded her head towards the blade, "What is she telling you?"

Sara just shook her head, unwilling to answer, unwilling to admit to both woman and sentient jewelry about her true feelings.

She narrowed her eyes on Faith, "What's so funny?" 

Faith shook her head, "The old man was right."

"Who?" 

"Lazar," Faith waved her hand, "Don't worry you'll meet him sooner or later." 

"Okay," Sara's brows furrowed in confusion, "What was he right about?"

 "Everything obviously," Faith snickered, "He was telling me how you and I have much in common."

It was Sara's turn to snicker, "I don't see it."

"Believe me neither did I up until now." She let out a long sigh, "Though now I see what he means." Faith moved closer and stared into Sara's eyes. "Don't be afraid to love, Sara. Don't let that fear stand in the way." 

"What are you…." Sara began to say but quickly stopped. She let out a heavy sigh. Why should she continue to kid herself? Finally, she decided it was time to be honest not only to Faith but especially with herself. Vehemently she shook her head, "He's in love with you, not me. He probably hates me and I cannot blame him. Especially, what happened that last night."

Here was an opportunity to find out what happened but seeing how vulnerable Sara was at that moment Faith did not pursue in her original intent. Instead, she softly spoke, "I never said he was in love with me or I to him." That caught Sara's attention. Faith continued, "The love between us is the kind of love a brother and a sister would share."

Faith smiled as Sara's brows shot up in surprise. "You and Ian are…"

"Siblings? Sort of." 

"What do you mean?"

"Ian is not of my blood. He came into my…family when he was only five years old. We grew up together."

"I never knew Ian had any family," Sara snorted, "Then again I don't know anything about him."

"Unfortunately, Ian doesn't know much about his past, let alone where he came from. My… father," Faith spat out the word, "Kept that information to himself amongst other things."

As she carefully listened, Sara started to put the pieces together. Sara keenly stared at Faith, only now noticing the resemblance. Faith watched as the realization settled in Sara's eyes. "You…you're Kenneth Irons' daughter." Sara stated rather then questioned. 

Faith, already predicting this was going to happen, sighed and confirmed by saying, "Yes." 

"I just can't believe it. I…."

Faith raised her hands to stop Sara from saying any more. "Look before you run me through with the Witchblade and condemn me for being Irons' daughter just remember. I stand before you unarmed. I've brought you here in the sanction of my home, and risked my life to save yours. I am a person you can trust. And if you think I hold any love for may father, you're wrong. I have as much hatred for that man as you do."

Sara pursed her lips together and nodded her head. "Are you done?" Tentatively Faith nodded her head. "As I was going to say, I had figured out as much. I just wasn't too sure up until now."

Surprised, Faith responded, "What?"

"Hey don't look so surprised. I am a detective you know."

Faith grinned, "My apologies for assuming…detective." Sara nodded in acceptance. And, before their eyes, as they stood there a form of camaraderie fell before them.

After a few comfortable moments, it was Faith who spoke first, "You know, you still haven't answered my question, Sara and I'm sure I've already answered some of your questions."

Sara sighed, turned away from Faith, and walked towards the window. "It's hard to explain and you wouldn't understand any way."

Faith sadly smiled, "Oh but I would, Sara. You'd be surprise."

"Would you believe me when I say that all the spiteful words, the attitude, and anger I felt towards Ian was just a way of protecting not only me but him too?" Sara didn't wait for an answer and continued, "It's just not safe to be around me."

"How so, Sara?"

_…People around you keep dying. Why is that?…_

Sara closed her eyes, Orlinsky's remark echoed in her mind. "Everyone I've cared about are gone, dead."

"And you think by keeping Ian at a distance, you're keeping him safe? Keeping him from that morbid fate?" Sara nodded her head.

"He would be better off without me, Faith." 

Faith grinned and started shaking her head. 

"That's not true, Sara."

She whirled around on Faith, tears running down her face. "Yes it is! He would be safer without me. At least Irons won't…"

"Won't what, Sara?" 

"Do you know what this thing showed me?" Sara raised her arm, flashing the blade at Faith, "It showed me visions of Ian being abused by Irons."

"And you believe that Ian's punishments were all you're fault?" Sara lowered her head. "Sara you cannot blame yourself over things you have no control over."

"If Ian had left me alone, stayed away from me then Irons wouldn't have," Sara paused, remembering the beatings Ian endured, "To have punished Ian the way he did."

Faith rolled her eyes and snorted, "You never strike as the type to be so…self-centered, Sara."

"Excuse me?" Sara snapped.

"What? Just because you're the wielder of the Witchblade you think everything is your fault, that you're the one to blame." Faith hesitantly turned around, and lifted her shirt, exposing her scarred back. "Then I suppose I should blame you for these too."

"Oh my God," Sara covered her mouth in shock. She reached forward but quickly pulled her hand back, "What…how…" Sara was having difficulty finding the words. Faith lowered her shirt and turned back to Sara. "I refused him once, and paid dearly for it."

"How…how could you let him do that to you?"

"It was never a question of letting him do this to me or Ian, it was his right."

"Right? He had no right! What that bastard did to you and Ian was wrong."

Faith shook her head, "You need to understand our upbringing was different compared to yours, Sara. We were raised differently, taught differently, and lead to believe differently. If we failed in our master's eyes, it was only fitting to punish us for it. Punishments we wholeheartedly accepted."

Sara shook her head, unable to accept what Faith was telling her. "Why are you telling me this?"

Faith shrugged her shoulders, "So you have a better understanding and that you don't continue to think Ian is some mindless, submissive slave you believe him to be. He's not, at least not any more that is. This was just our way. But that's all changed especially since he has met you, Sara. Instead of thinking that you're responsible for those punishments, start believing that you're the reason why he's rebelling against it. You gave him the strength, the will to live."

Sara vehemently disagreed, "The only thing I've ever given him was animosity, hatred," she turned away from Faith, hiding the tears streaming down her face, "And pain." She clutched his ring in her hand, recalling how he had left it behind after she had cast him away. 

"Stop making excuses, Sara. Don't be afraid to love him back." Faith pleaded. 

"How could he even possibly want me after everything I've done?"

"Because he loves you and will always love you." Sara gasped as she heard his voice. Both women turned to see Ian standing near the door, Gabriel just behind him. Ian started making his way towards them. First stopping in front of Faith and quietly whispered, "We'll discuss this later." Faith nodded her head in reply and started for the door where Gabe stood waiting. 

"Faith I'm sorry. I tried but he…" 

"It's okay, Angel." 

"You know he's really pissed at you." 

Faith looked over her shoulder and smiled,  "I know, Angel. Come on let's give them some much deserved privacy."


	66. Chapter Sixty six

> A/N: I deeply apologize for the looooong wait. RL has been keeping me busy, plus it doesn't help that the muses disappeared on me. Any way, I'm back with more and I hope ya'll enjoy!  
  
Gabriel gestured towards the closed door behind them, "So, how do you think it will go?"  
  
Faith could only guess what would happen between the two. A worried crease formed between her brows as she considered the possibilities. Then just as quickly the look of doubt faded. A small smile appeared across her face. She looked and Gabriel and said, "I think they will be just fine." She was most certain that it would be all right especially after discovering Sara's feelings, even though the woman had yet to admit it aloud, and least not forget Ian's profession as he barged in.  
  
"Think so?" Gabe questioned.  
  
Faith nodded her head, "Yeah I do."  
  
Gabe narrowed his eyes, "Then why do you have this skeptical look on your face?"  
  
Faith grinned, shaking her head, "I'm just wondering who between the two is going to take that first initial step."  
  
Gabriel snickered understanding what she meant. He was quite familiar with Sara's bullheaded personality and, just recently, discovering Ian's own stubbornness. Who indeed was the definite question?  
  
The door closed with a soft click, leaving them alone in silence. Neither moved nor spoke, both well aware of the uncertainty and fear lingering in the air between them. Here was a meeting long over due, yet what comes next? What could be done to rectify the mistakes and sooth the pains of the past? The blade hissed sharply on Sara's wrist urging the occupants of the room to do something, anything. Nothing. Frustrated, the blade acquiescently quieted down, because there was nothing 'it' could do to interfere, not this time.  
  
Not one to usually beg for help, Sara longingly stared down at the tranquil bracelet, silently pleading for help. However, the blade remained dull and quiet. As much as she wanted to curse and yell at the Witchblade, deep down she knew that the blade had done enough for her. It had already contradicted her idea of who Ian Nottingham was. Giving her a chance to see past the unjustly illusion she had painted in her mind of a man who, she thought, lacked the emotional ties of a normal person and only obeyed his master.  
  
A chance to finally see that Ian Nottingham was indeed just a man vulnerable to the harsh realities of the world and one that has been brought up under the iron hand of an emotionless bastard. Shamefully, an association she would use to place the barrier of mistrust and bitterness between them. She had yelled, screamed, and threatened. Anything to push him away, and finally when she had succeeded, she was left bereft with an emptiness inside.  
  
Sara squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears falling from them. She turned away from him not wanting him to see her like this, ashamed of the part she played in his life. Remember seeing him across the room looking so weak, vulnerable, and beaten.  
  
"Sara," Ian called, concerned.  
  
She didn't hear him, her mind spinning with images from her visions, and the dreams. Seeing him chained up in that room, and the way his lifeless body felt beneath hers. A chill ran up her spine, quickly gripping her heart in a cold grasp. Absently, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward of the cold. She was so lost in thought; she did not notice Ian standing in front of her.  
  
"Sara," his soothing voice softly cried out to her, pulling her away from her dark thoughts. The feel of his warm hands on her face, melted away the chill from her heart. He tugged lightly, wanting to see her face, her eyes. She lifted her face, and when she opened her eyes, a fresh set of tears rolled down her face.  
  
Being so close Sara was able to see him better, registering the bruising on his face and the large gash above his brow. Just another reminder of how close she had come to losing him and that she was responsible for pushing him so far. "Sara, please don't," he insisted while wiping her tears, "It always pains me to see you cry." He admitted, his caramel eyes staring deeply into hers.  
  
There was no mistaking what she saw in them. 'How could he still love me after everything I've done?' she wondered to herself, still taken aback by his admission earlier and the look in his eyes.  
  
As if reading her mind Ian answered, "I just do, Sara. I fell in love with you and I haven't stopped falling since." That rare smile crept across his face.  
  
A small smile spread across her face but it quickly faded, replaced was a frown. She reached up to trace the healing wound above his brow. "Even after hurting you so badly."  
  
She may not have lifted her hand against him, but not all wounds were physically evident. Ian closed his eyes and exhaled. He covered her hand with his and leaned into her touch. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have...I... I pushed you too far." He laid his fingers over her lips, halting her protests.  
  
Ian took a deep breath and started to explain. "Yes, you did hurt me Sara. So much that I could no longer live with the pain. I had every intention of," his voice hitched. He did not feel comfortable telling Sara that he had contemplated on suicide that night. Clearing his throat he continued, "I had given up, I did not want to live knowing I could not be apart of your life."  
  
More tears spilled from her eyes. Sadness quickly turned from regret to anger. She rested her hands against his chest, cursing at herself. "I didn't mean to push you so far, Ian. I was just trying to protect you."  
  
"From what, Sara?" He asked, gently stroking her cheeks.  
  
"From me," she whispered.  
  
"You?" Ian sighed, "Sara, you don't have to protect me."  
  
Angrily she tore away from him, yelling, "Yes, I do! I couldn't save Danny or John but I'd be damned if I'd sit idly by and watch you die too, Ian. I couldn't lose you like how I lost them. It would have been too much." 'God, I had been so close,' she thought to herself.  
  
Ian gasped, shocked from what she was saying. Since when had he become so important to her?  
  
"I didn't matter any way," she snorted in disgust, "Even in my attempts to protect you, I only managed to hurt you more. So badly, you wanted to..." she stopped, not able to continue.  
  
Ian was quickly in front of her, holding her face in his hands, and forcing her to look at him. "Yes," Ian's voice started to tremble, his eyes beginning to water, "I had my one moment of weakness, Sara, but it will never happen again I assure you."  
  
"How? How can I be sure?"  
  
"Because," he leaned his forehead against hers, looking straight into her eyes, "Because this time I know." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"  
  
"That you care, Sara."  
  
More tears spilled from her eyes. 'God, why have I been fighting for so long?' she wondered to herself. "Ian I," she began while reaching forward to grasp his face in her hands, "I don't just care for you."  
  
His eyes widen, "What are you saying, Sara?"  
  
There was no turning back now. Heeding Cathain and Elizabeth's warnings, Sara was not about to make the same mistakes they had. They had their chance and unfortunately, they lost greatly in their hesitations. 'No, not this time,' she thought. History was not going to repeat itself.  
  
Her right hand trailed from his face down to his chest, over his heart. The blade glowed lightly on her wrist. "I don't know why I fought for so long, against you and myself. I guess I was scared and I wasn't ready."  
  
"And now," amber colored eyes gleamed with hope.  
  
"I'm ready Ian." She paused to caress his bruised cheek, "I nearly lost you once, and I am not going to risk losing you again. You said we could become inseparable, I just had to ask, right."  
  
Ian nodded his head in answer, unable to find the words. "Well I'm asking Ian. I need you, I want you in my life, standing by my side because..."  
  
"Please," he pulled back to look at her, eyes pleading for her to say what he's been longing for, "Please tell me."  
  
She could feel his heart beating faster under her palm. Staring deeply into his eyes, Sara continued, "I love you."  
  
His whole body went rigid the only sound he made was the audible exhale of breath he had been holding. He didn't move and Sara wasn't sure he'd heard her. Cupping his face in her hands she looked at him, "Ian did you hear me?"  
  
"Say it again."  
  
A huge smile spreading across Sara's face, "I love you."  
  
"Again," he demanded, as he leaned closer.  
  
"I love you," she said, while wrapping her hands behind his neck, urging him closer.  
  
"Again." Ian knew he would never tire of hearing those beautiful words passing her sweet lips, lips that were now a breath apart.  
  
Ian hovered above her mouth, waiting for her to say them. Sara pressed herself against his body and was gratified to hear the low moan escaping his lips. She pulled his head closer, and when she finally spoke her lips brushed against his. "I love you, Ian Nottingham."  
  
Ian gasped and leaned down capturing her mouth. The kiss felt so familiar and so right. This time Sara let out a moan. With a new sense of confidence, Ian urged her to part her lips. Desire flared to life as tongues touched. It was so overwhelming they had to pull apart to breath.  
  
Breathing heavily, Ian laid his forehead against hers. He stared at her; still unable to believe she loved him. His smile quickly turned into a frown, he turned his head to stare at the Witchblade. Happily, he sighed as noticed the blade quiet and lifeless. Unlike the incident in the elevator, this time he knew the blade was not in control here. It was his Sara that wanted him, that loved him.  
  
"What?" She asked looking down at blade too, "What's wrong?"  
  
Ian turned his attention back to Sara, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. "Nothing," he said, nibbling at her lips, "For once everything is right."


End file.
